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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25936531">Medicine/ɔ ᴉ ƃ ɐ ɯ [RoChu Fanfiction]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarthornFromScratch/pseuds/StarthornFromScratch'>StarthornFromScratch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Turning Kinky/Fluffy/Cracky Cliques Into Angst [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Do it for the meme, Don't Like Don't Read, From my Wattpad account, I Don't Even Know, I know where this is going, I'm so sorry, M/M, Many chapters, Miscarriage, Rochu, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, What Have I Done, i will add tags, it's for the meme I swear, m-preg, oh gods forgive me, oh lordy don't read this without reading the warnings, starthornfromscratch, this was a joke, warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:47:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>65,633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25936531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarthornFromScratch/pseuds/StarthornFromScratch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>China/Russia (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Turning Kinky/Fluffy/Cracky Cliques Into Angst [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Warnings and Three Prologue Parts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Important</b>
</h3><p>
  <b>Please note</b>
</p><p>
  <span>As I said in the description this content is entirely for the meme but I did work very hard to turn a usually simple type of AU into a story with an actual storyline. Obviously there are going to be plot holes, thats just how this type of AU works.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prologue is split into three parts simply because it flows better and makes more sense because I don't want to type out a time skip in the middle of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>General Disclaimer</b>
</p><p>
  <span>This story is about characters who do not belong to me. All people/nations that show up in this story are not mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also remember that this is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fanfiction</span>
  </em>
  <span> and is not meant to be insensitive in any way. These characters are the personification of countries and their personalities are all stereotypes. Everything they do does not directly reflect the people in the country they represent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you do not agree with ships presented do not fight me over it, they are opinions. (None of these are my OTP by the way, I just wrote what worked.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tried to be as accurate as possible with the houses and stuff based on culture, and I did some research. But please be aware that its probably not all accurate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Warnings..?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of you are here for a ship, I get it. Maybe you are here for the AU type, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>suppose</span>
  </em>
  <span> I get it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Please be warned, there is sensitive content in this story. Part of the plot is losing a child, so if you are sensitive to that I suggest you do not read. There is a bit of smut (or will be later in the plot) I will put a warning in the chapter containing this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are mentions of war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are mentions of death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As fore stated there are mentions of losing children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are mentions of mental disorders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This story is m-preg. (Not truly omega-verse though.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This fic is also heavily based around family ties and if I got some of the characters wrong I'm sorry, this is my first Hetalia fanfiction and these characters are really hard to represent properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This does not have a lot of research behind it, although I try to be at least a little bit historically accurate when talking about countries. It is also not based in any particular time period, although the prologue has armor types for the Qin and Han dynasty. The rest is somewhere soon after the Cold War ends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Update Schedule</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I'll try to update as often as possible but this is my story so please be patient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I'll update when I finish things, and only then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>If your cool with that...</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Then I suppose start reading.</span>
</p><p> </p><h3>
  <b>Prologue Part 1</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>"Sir."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word resonated throughout the room, calling the personification of China to attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes?" He responded, his answer steady, somehow managing to stay calm when all he really wanted to do was run as fast and as far away as possible. He knew this was coming, he should have kept his curiosity to himself back those four months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly turning around, the nation swallowed the bile threatening to rise in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The messenger who had first spoke bowed to him, black hair falling over his shoulders momentarily, "I was called here to tell you what had to be done,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I... I am aware," China's uncertainty was noticeable, but the messenger did not respond to it out of politeness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You must go into battle, it is our only chance,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing again, the Asian country nodded, not knowing what words he could use to express his feelings. It was all a jumble of fear in his brain, the stress of the coming battles weighing on his red clad shoulders. In that time, power struggles were common and the country knew it, his body ached constantly from the waring, but there was nothing he could do about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please sir," the messenger bowed again, "the emperor has asked for your help,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside the birds chirped, and a small stream could be heard quietly running over it's rocky bed. The emptiness of the sounds filled the room instead of much needed words, the tension apparent to the human and the country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China took in a deep breath before responding, "it is my duty as a nation to help fight, I will go tomorrow, please leave me for now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the messenger bowed for a third time China turned around again, eyes searching his view of the garden for nothing in particular. There was nothing he wanted to see, and far too much to risk. It had been the truth when he said that it was his duty to fight, it had always been that way even if most of the time it didn't matter since he kept to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This battle of all battles, the timing was almost implausible, now when he was so weak. Now when his medicine had been proved to work much more than the conventional miracles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing he could do about it, he had given his word. The next morning he would leave for war, he would come back, he was a country after all, but his own death wasn't what worried him. It was the life of another being that was straining on him. The life of a child who was yet to be born, an unconventional child through and unconventional fashion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too late.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Words that only proved to make him more regretful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Words that only made him wish for the past more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously that was impossible, and beings like him knew it more than anyone else. Even if sometimes it felt nice to dream, a wish that would be brought back many times in the future, after this battle, after this time period, when China's medicine sat as more of taboo than miracles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced over his shoulder, relieved to find that the messenger had left as he had asked, and slowly turned around again. He faced the stairway that he had walked up a little while ago, prepared to walk down it again. There was no one he could tell of his blight, no one who would praise him for it, even comfort him about it. All he could do was suck it up and move on with his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he took a few steps forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking towards an ever approaching tomorrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><h3>
  <b>Prologue Part 2</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>Four months ago China had been experimenting, whatever your take on the word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Focus on the medicine or focus on who he was getting around too, because in this case it was both. Always curious, the Asian country loved to find new ways to use herbs, new ways to mix them together, new outcomes. It was one of his hobbies and one of the things he enjoyed doing in his free time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around a decade back he had gotten a request for a medicine that would enable a man to get pregnant. At the time he had brushed it off, not wanting to dwell on other peoples strange kinks. But it had kept him up far into the night many times, just wondering if it was possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One day he finally gave in and rolled out of bed, determined to find a mixture that would make it possible for a man to have a child as if he was a woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He worked for years, even if it was only a side project he worked on when there was nothing else he had planned. Finally, after much, very embarrassing, trial and error, he was confident in his medicine. There was no longer anyone who wanted it though, so there wasn't much he could do with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was still proud of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was truly a hurdle he had never before seen himself jumping, but it had been an entertaining project even if stressful. But why put it to waste? Why not try it out himself? He had worked very hard after all and it would be a shame for such a medicine to go down the drain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the start of how he had got himself into this position, struggling to fit armor over his very slightly enlarged stomach by himself in a tent. He still hadn't told anyone other than the wise woman in his village, who had at least given him the luxury of secrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was apparent, he was pregnant, though the details were still unclear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that there was at least one child, even if the details of gender were yet to be revealed. He had no official names, since traditionally babies were named one-hundred days after their birth. Of course he had his ideas for these, things like "The Morning" and "Spring Flowers" in his native language. But that was only if the baby ended up being a girl, for any boys he still had no idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to be careful, that was for certain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His child was just starting to have a human (or nation) like form and would start to be actually noticeable soon. He had to be careful to act normal and to hide the truth of his predicament from any peering eyes. He had to fight as if he was a regular soldier, but first he had to fit into the armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't like he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exceptionally</span>
  </em>
  <span> larger than normal, and it wasn't like the armor was exceptionally tight. The leather lamellar abdomen section that was made out of small pieces was slightly tighter than it should have been but the rest of the armor still fit fine. He was ready, prepared for battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping out of his tent, the Asian nation adjusted his helmet and put a hand on his stomach briefly, as if assuring the being within that he still cared. It didn't matter to him if the other parent didn't know yet and hopefully would never find out. That other nation didn't ever need to know that he had knocked up the brown haired country pretty well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All China had to do was get through this battle, get through this war and go home. He couldn't die, or at least death didn't stop him like it did humans. The only thing he had to worry about were the people around him, should he make friends, and his hidden child, in case of injury. It sounded simple in his brain at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, battle is never that simple, and wars never end that easily.</span>
</p><p> </p><h3>
  <b>Prologue Part 3</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>Next to him an arrow hit the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How had he gotten here? Why was he on the ground, was that... blood?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nation's view was mildly spinning, and his head ached. He was clearly still on the battlefield, he could hear the groans and screams of the warriors around him easily, even if he was dazed by his fall. He felt as though he should get up but something was definitely wrong, even beyond the obvious death nearby, so he stayed on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sneaking a quick glance at the arrow embedded in the mud next to him, China raked his mind for what else could possibly be wrong. He had a headache, maybe from hitting it maybe from stress, he didn't have enough time to decide. There was also a cut on his cheek somehow, and with a jolt he realized that his helmet wasn't on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Careful to stay down, the nation looked around him, searching for the metal armor piece among the bodies that lay here and there and the legs of other people fighting. It was nowhere to be seen so he guessed that either someone had taken it or it had gotten kicked away in the sea of warriors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No point in trying to look harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing a pair of warriors coming his way the Asian country struggled to roll the side, avoiding the feet that cracked the arrow where it stuck. But then suddenly it struck him, he was with child, or at least he hoped he still was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat seemed to tighten, eyes stuck between squinting and widening, not sure how to express the emotion or rather the instinctive shock. That was what was wrong, his stomach hurt, hurt as if he had gotten hit very very hard, maybe stepped on. It is true that usually getting hit in the stomach does not affect an unborn baby, but perhaps if it had been hard enough...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China took in a deep breath, now laying on his side where he had rolled to, bloodied cheek in the dust. The air caught in his throat in an uncomfortable way as he tried to think of other possibilities. What if he was misinterpreting a chest pain as if it was lower down? Maybe it was just cramps? A ridiculously painful bruise?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though all of these options were far more attractive than the truth, China knew they couldn't be right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was now sure of it, he had lost the child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knot seemed to be forming in his chest, the pain settling right at his sternum. A worry that sent waves of freezing cold terror through his bones and to the very depths of his soul. It was like needing to cry in a room full of government figures but far worse because all he would be judged by was himself. Not even his child, since they were now dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was virtually no one else who knew, he couldn't explain this pain to anyone, it just wasn't possible in their eyes. This was a fear that should have only been saved for the very least fortunate women, no man should have ever had to deal with the pain because no one deserved it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The horror of losing a child.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter One</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>Present day is a strange term.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe for a short time it seems true, being in the present, but after a while everything, even that, has to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So as a nearly immortal nation, the oldest of those still alive, time was sort of a different concept, a fake reality that didn't deserve attention, or at least in China's opinion. Emotions stretched across time even as things changed so quickly around him, sometimes resurfacing after decades and sometimes slowly slipping out of his mind only to be brought back soon after. Loss truly was an odd concept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sunlight filtered through the window, spreading colors around the room and splattering specks of light on the hardwood floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China pulled the blanket up over his head in one fluid motion. He was too tired this morning, too tired to face all the current problems in his country and unfortunately too tired to face the past as well. The nation had received far more than his share of pain throughout his time as a country and usually he tried to ignore it, a hard earned habit that had stuck with him since the time of the ancients.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But despite that he still managed to mourn every year. Most parents would be in mourning as well but he had been forced to keep his pain a secret and occasionally got hit harder than normal with the loss. Even now, thousands of years later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't help but think about them, the names he might have chosen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chen, or "The Morning".</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chunhua, or "Spring Flowers".</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two beautiful names for two beautiful children he had planned on having. Two beautiful children that would never be, who would never be able to say his name or love him. Who would never be able to wake up in the morning and eat breakfast, go to school or world meetings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The personification rolled onto his side, turning away from the window and looking at the old peeling paint that covered the walls. It was far too late for those people he had never met, even if he felt like he could have in some other time, some other place. He hadn't even made his medicine in a while, and certainly had not started any new projects like that one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still had to get up this morning, there was a meeting this afternoon that he couldn't miss. Japan was the host country and he had to get on the plane he had a ticket on by noon (if he was cutting it close) since the meeting started at three thirty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling to the side again, China fell out of his bed in a not so graceful way. This was nearly the opposite of how he would normally get up, he had just felt like crap recently, mostly because of the classic poverty but also because he couldn't stop thinking about the ancient times and his miscariage. He slowly peeled his blanket off him and brushed a strip of tangled brown hair behind his ear, he would have to deal with that mess later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stood up from the floor his knee made a loud cracking noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ai-yaa..." he winced as he stood, "I'll have to get that looked at aru," For the last few decades he had been telling himself that whenever anything strange happened with his body. But he never went anyway, since he didn't trust the doctors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no real reason why he didn't, he just didn't always agree with their methods of healing, either that or being in a room with someone he had never met before staring at him wasn't comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other countries thought it was strange but then again so did he, since he couldn't explain it, even to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His bare feet padded across the wood floor as he ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly. He had had it trimed a few weeks ago, but that was pretty much the only thing he had done in the terms of self care recently. He should probably do something about that too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walls in the hallway were also covered in cracking red and white paint, even though most of the rooms in the house had at least one wall that was made of plain wood and off-white bricks. All of the windows were in the ancient style with carved wood designs. Often times, when there were no meetings and no war, he would sit in the main room and stare out at the town around him. It had changed a lot in the past few decades, and sometimes he missed the old towns of the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lived in an older neighborhood, but even here was starting to be influenced by the modern buildings of the citys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was as if they were forgetting where everything had started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China sighed as he stepped into the kitchen, yawning as he rolled his shoulders back, stretching in an attempt to wake himself up. He blinked a few times and glanced over at the stove, wondering what he would eat this morning, or if he even wanted to in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was one thing about being a country, he always felt compelled to follow his own traditions, especially since some of them seemed to be dying out across the country, but at the same time he still had his own opinions and wanted to change things up occasionally. Maybe he would just have tea this morning, since he wasn't really in the mood for his regular food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After making tea and sitting down on the woven mat he still had from his very early days China rolled his head to the side, closing his eyes for just a moment as he thought about how regrettably lonely this breakfast would have sounded to anyone else. Usually he would eat and then go and talk to his boss or maybe other leaders of the country but today he had a meeting anyway and none of his usual companions were expecting him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All but his boss lived rather far away anyway, in their modern homes with all their money and expensive belongings. His boss, who was a dragon, usually lived in his house but had been visiting his old friends or something recently, he hadn't actually explained it to China. Since he was gone the nation was all alone for the time being, even if he did have to leave for his meeting soon enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mhg," he muttered, looking down at his cup of tea that was sitting on the wooden table in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually he would have gladly drank it but today he felt empty and had no desire for any food or drink. But he had already made it so it would be a waste to not drink it, since he knew he was very lucky to have the materials for even this. Not so long ago he had been rather poor for a country, since many of his citizens had been in a state of poverty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never been as bad off as the people who were in poverty, but it had been pretty bad considering how he was a country. There was sometimes still fighting and many things wrong with the way that his government worked but usually he himself was fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless he was left alone with his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then all he could think about was the past.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Two</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>After drinking all he could of his morning tea the Asian nation retraced his steps back to his room, running a hand along the wall as he walked, now appreciating his surroundings since he was fully awake. He was lucky to still have this house, since so much of his country was now changing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once in the darker room China sat down on his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blanket was still on the floor where he had rolled but he didn’t care, he was only resting here for a moment or so, then he would get ready to leave for his flight. He wondered if there were other nations who had also procrastinated until the day off for a flight. There probably were, seeing as many of them always seemed to be so unorganized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After this thought he nearly laughed for a moment before realizing that at the moment he was in the same situation. That stopped his mental teasing abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe his situation was sad, maybe he was just as pathetic as the rest of them. Perhaps that was the problem, he was becoming too much like the westerners, that was another thing to work on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to his government he was also far too much like Russia used to than he would have wished but that wasn’t his choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugg… Russia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a country, always going around radiating pure evil and other strange activities. But odd people usually had odd hobbies so it wasn’t that surprising, albeit a little off-putting. It still felt wrong what the younger nation had done in his past, even if China himself hadn’t always been much better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands tightened on the edge of the mattress as he thought about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How bad of a state was his country in at the moment? He knew that they were still under a rather unconventional government and that many of his people often suffered. There were other things, like laws that didn’t make sense to any of his fellow nations as well as too much censorship that may or may not have been partially his fault on a personal level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that was a reason why Hong Kong seemed to complain so much about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China swallowed the emptiness in his throat as he turned towards the painted wall again just thinking about what else could have gone wrong with the people he had raised. Japan didn’t like him, that was for certain, there had been so much war between the two countries that it was surprising that they still talked occasionally. Hong Kong obviously hated him, and South Korea might as well, he hadn’t seen North Korea since he had been locked away in his country so he was a mystery. China was pretty sure that Taiwan didn’t have any problems with him as a person…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was so much that he had done wrong!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he had never been cut out to raise those nations. Maybe it had been better to let England raise Hong Kong, even if he had turned out regrettably like America.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Children were always a pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he couldn’t say that, he had only ever lived with kids who weren’t his own. Maybe if he was related to them it would be different, maybe they would get along better, maybe so many years of struggling through poverty and side jobs wouldn’t go to waste on a child who didn’t love him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But at the same time he cursed that idea, if it wasn’t just as bad then what had his loss been for? What did his suffering mean other than the gods way of “fuck you”?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that in English morning and mourning were awfully similar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I thinking aru?” He groaned to himself, spinning around on the bed and staring out the window. His hands caught on the sheets like the emotions in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That child would never be able to look at the same sky as him, the same sun and the same moon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop please...” but the pleading words were barely heard by his own ears as he stared at the sky outside his window. Even the nation who hated him most had looked at the moon with him, they had argued about it too but that was besides the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His emotions boiled over too quickly, just like they always had when he didn’t understand things, and the nation soon felt tears welling up in his eyes. They stung his cheeks on their way down, not from physical pain but from shame. He had already cried over this so many times over the years that he was starting to suspect that the number had neared infinity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t have been so much of a problem other than the fact that it still felt like his own fault for accepting the battle, even when the rational part of him knew that there had been no choice. Occasionally the guilt would overwhelm him, the regret would become too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Recently the feeling had not been an easy one to shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told himself over and over again to just forget it, that that was what he got for experimenting with things that probably weren’t meant to be changed. Of course with thoughts like these there was always the sneaking suspicion that he probably wasn’t making it any easier for himself. The accusations set by his own brain only hit his heart, and he knew that usually that never lead to anything good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered what the other nations would think if they knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They would probably hate him for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his face in his hands, closing his eyes as tightly as he could and trying to simply will the tears away. But he couldn’t do it. His body shook as the sobs took him in full force, wrenching convulsive gasps and shudders from his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his brain he apologized, asking forgiveness again from that child he had never been able to meet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears ran down his face as he tried to wipe them away. Gasps for air that couldn’t be described with words, not even with paintings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” he whispered between hiccups, “I’m s-so… so…” but he didn’t need to finish the sentence a second time because the regretful weeping soon filled the room again. It sounded almost dry, because he didn’t really have many tears left to shed and his throat hurt from praying too much. Still, at the same time somehow, it was almost wet, as if the shame seeping into his soul was finally letting itself loose, even though it had done the same many other times that week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all too familiar, and he was sure his neighbors were probably tired of the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, in their minds, what was there for a nation to cry about? They had everything, eternal life, fame, glory, everything a human could wish for. Everything a human would mistake for what they wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In truth, very few of the nations liked their state of being. Very few liked the concept of representing such a large area of land, and so many people who had their own lives to live out. It was almost too big of an expectation, but there were far worse things out there. That was probably one reason why so many people didn’t take their lives seriously, it always seemed like </span>
  <em>
    <span>death</span>
  </em>
  <span> was losing everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what if some of the nations wanted to lose everything? To forget about their mistakes? Their flaws and faults?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if all they wanted was something that was long gone?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something they had never even had.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Three</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>*This chapter mentions North Korea, who isn't really a character. I just decided to make him one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China was sprinting down the sidewalk, dark hair tangling behind his shoulders in the wind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had booked a flight that he hadn't expected to land as late as it had, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hadn't read the times correctly because he had been too lazy to properly translate it off the site he had found the ticket on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh well. Too late for that now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still had to get to Japan's, whom he knew lived somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo, where the flight had landed. He had taken a bus from the train station to as close as it would get to Japan's address, since the younger country was hosting the meeting at his house instead of one of his government buildings. As soon as he had stumbled off the bus China had been sprinting and would soon arrive, even if he looked a little crazy as he ran through the neighborhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally he saw the house, the fence surrounding it only slightly hid the yellow-ish walls and Japanese style windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regaining his composure, the personification took in a few gasps of air as he stopped at the door. Raising a fist and lightly knocking on the wood, quietly calling out to the people inside, China gently brushed his hair behind his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"K-Kiku..." He took another deep breath, "I'm here aru, sorry I'm late..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard a few pattering footsteps from inside the house before the door handle turned, making a creaking noise as it did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Japan opened the front door, he bowed to China, even though he looked a little stiff as he did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yao, I'm glad you could make it," said the younger nation, standing up a moment later, now done with his greeting, "Even if you are quite late."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China pretended not to have heard Japan's comment as he smiled awkwardly, forcing a laugh, "Ah, ha ha, well, I wasn't going to miss a meeting even if I was..." he trailed off at the end, stopping himself from telling Japan what he had been thinking about all morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" inquired Japan, tilting his head to the side slightly as he let China into the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothing aru," China said with another forced laugh, "just tired this morning,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his shoes off, as was Japan's custom, and padded into the living area where the other nations were gathered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh China you're here!" exclaimed America, "I was wondering if you had finally collapsed under that communism of yours!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China blushed as America continued, "It's never too late to convert you know!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young nation laughed in an almost maniacal way as China rushed to his seat beside Russia and sat down in embarrassment. He had heard that statement way too many times from way too many nations and just as many religions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"America!" England hissed, "Stop it! We have to continue with the meeting and you aren't helping."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France snorted slightly and patted England on the back, whispering something that made the latter country blush almost as red as China. In the back of the room, New Zealand, who was sitting with Australia, spoke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait everyone, look at Japan,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his word Japan cleared his throat at the head of the table and the other countries quieted, looking at their host incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hate to interrupt but..." Japan said softly, "we have other matters to discuss."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words were final and as the small Asian country sat down the nations who had spoken tried not to look sheepish, all except for New Zealand, who never ceased to look like a sheep. A moment of awkward apologies took up the small pause that was wasted for the meeting to get back on track, but after that it was back to world hunger and finances. China's attention strayed from the words of the country's around him as he stared out the window, resting his chin on his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone was accounted for, even some of the micronations whom Australia and the Nordic five had brought. Everyone but North Korea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one had seen the country in years, not after he had been locked in his land, not even allowed to participate in the government. South Korea sat next to Taiwan, Seychelles with Canada were on folding chairs in a corner, everyone who was needed was there. Except North Korea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't fair, he had been raised in the same house as all the other Asian countries, by China no less, but he still couldn't be here. It was cruel and wrong, and he hadn't done anything personally to deserve it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even as he thought, China was knocked out of his little world by an unexpected voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yao, hey, Yao!" it was quiet, but still commanding in a way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm?" China jumped slightly as he tuned to his right, hair hitting the nation who had spoken to him in the face,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he quietly apologized, frantically brushing his hair behind his ears again, Russia also spoke for a second time. "Nyet, Nyet, it's alright, I was just going to tell you that you have a some blood on your cheek,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China was surprised by the cold country's words but still wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, seeing that it did indeed have something on it, but he didn't know if it was blood or not. "O-oh, thank you Russia, I didn't notice aru,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia laughed quietly, "And that," he gestured to the Asian nation's hair, "is tangled, I noticed when you hit me with it,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry about that aru," China blushed, "I didn't have time to comb it this morning, I was hoping that no one would notice,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Russia! China!" Germany's yell surprised them both, so they whipped around to face the nation who had called them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes?" Asked Russia after realizing he wasn't in danger, "What is it Germany?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Germany pointed his chin towards America, "He was talking, and he didn't want to be interrupted, so we would appreciate it if you would listen too,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia made a soft noise that might have been a laugh before leaning back in his chair again, "Alright, I'll listen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China bit his lip, nodding in agreement as he put his hands in his lap stiffly, embarrassed to be caught talking to such a country. He wouldn't have minded if he had been talking to England or some other sensible nation, even though they were still enemies. Russia was just so indescribably... insane perhaps? Threatening? Maybe there wasn't a word for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"As I was SAYING," the American laughed, "I think that Russia should apologize to me for the Cold War, even though I'm totally over that by now, since it </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a few months,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia's smile widened as his purple eyes narrowed, "and why should I do that? You caused me just as much pain as I caused you, and I thought we had agreed that we were over this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China, completely skipping over Cuba who was fuming in the background, noticed that Vietnam looked annoyed, probably thinking about how much she had suffered in the recent war, but he quickly looked away again and continued to stare at the arguing countries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I never said anything like that," America was saying, "I have to always be ready to fight since I'm the HERO and I need to protect my people,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh I have nothing against fighting," Russia laughed, "I would just rather if you recognize my win in the Space Race,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Win? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I did it better so that doesn't count! As I said, I'm the-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China stood, slamming his hands on the table top, for a moment sounding as he had in the past as an empire, "Enough!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both silenced as they looked at China in surprise, neither having expected the usually quiet personification to yell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Enough," China said again, quieter this time, "Stop. Both of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a shaky breath, China looked at the stunned country's around him, "I'm sure we have all lost a lot. Maybe some of us more than others..." he stumbled a bit on his words as he lifted his hands again, purposefully avoiding his stomach as he did so, "It's not like none of us have suffered, even Sealand aru,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured to the micronation, who looked delighted to be noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Even the smallest of us have had battles and fires, so stop fighting over such pointless wars of the past and act like the adults you are,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped back from the table, swallowing hard before pushing his chair in and stalking out of the room. Once out the door he stopped, glancing back into the room and seeing that everyone was staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swore in exasperation before turning and continuing down the hallway.  Behind him he could hear the nation’s talking, some quietly, some loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sealand was asking his adoptive dads if they had heard him get mentioned, which of course they had. America was saying that China was being dramatic, Russia muttered something, but China couldn’t tell what. Japan quietly told the rest of the room that China was probably having a bad day, based on what he had been told at the door. Canada also said something, then Cuba repeated it, but that didn’t matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China just wanted to get away from there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After his anger had cooled down he was starting to feel embarrassed for his actions. Why did he yell at them? The only world superpower and a nation who was getting ready to be a superpower again? To be fair, China was also poised to become a superpower, and it wasn’t likely that Russia or America would be able to coordinate an attack on him for personal reasons. It had been done, but it was rare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, his leaders were going to be pissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All throughout history the country had struggled with idea differences between himself personally and the way his government affected his country. This happened with every personification, it was normal. China had been here since around 8000 BCE, back before he was a large nation, back when it was just settlers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back then, there hadn’t been a government to boss him around and he had just lived as more of a human, only trying to survive. It had only been in 2696 BCE when he was first recognized as more than that crazy twenty something year old at the edge of town who didn’t age. After that he had occasionally been called for by his emperors, but only when they needed help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of them had really ever cared about him as a person, since he wasn’t truly human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since much of the ancient times had been filled with battle and pain he usually stayed at home unless there was war or other important business to attend to. Other than that he took up hobbies, like medicine making and for a little while even carpentry and woodworking. Even cooking had been a habit he started when he had nothing to do other than agonize over how much power struggles freaking hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was drawn out of his thoughts by footsteps behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“China.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This voice was commanding in a not quite intimidating way. China knew it too well, this was England. He had never been scared of England, had never truly been afraid of the other countries either, it was only the threat of disappearing that had kept him from rebelling sooner when they had lived together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>China.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time the word was slightly more threatening, so China turned around to face the European country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“你想要什么? What the fuck do you want?” China was angry enough to add the English swear word in his translation, but not angry at England, he was just mad. Mad at himself, mad at the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” scoffed England, obviously taken aback by China’s comment, “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ask you if something was wrong, but I suppose I do not have to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China bit his lip, “Sorry.” He said shortly, feeling strange talking to a current enemy in this way, “I should have let you talk, go on ahen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England leaned against the wall where China was standing, turning his side to the Asian nation. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back before finally speaking again, “I know I’m still your enemy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m aware aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England shot him an annoyed look before closing his eyes again and continuing in his speech, “I know that we have been enemies many times throughout history and, don’t get me wrong, I still hate you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” China muttered as he too leaned against the wall next to England.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” England continued, “on a personal level this recent, uh, outburst, should I say, is a little upsetting. I obviously do not care much,” the blond nation added the end part quickly and a bit rushed, as if he had to get it off his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China swallowed and nodded as England turned to him, “so you want me to explain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No not necessarily,” England said as he turned his head to face China, “although that would be nice,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately,” China said in a sort of clipped way, “I can’t tell anyone about my motives, especially </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> ahen,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England looked slightly insulted as China said this, the British nation’s eyes narrowing as the other spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not have anything against you as a person, as I am not scared of you, but our leaders simply do not get along. Besides, the event that influenced this was far in the past, ahen, do not worry yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were meant to sound final but England was clearly not impressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean ‘far in the past’? I know I’m not that old of a nation compared to a lot of the rest of you but I think I deserve to know,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiyyaa, Maybe you think you do,” China hissed, “But this is incredibly personal </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was back in the Han dynasty, you were nowhere near alive back in BCE,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England didn’t have a response to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now if you would excuse me I will be going now,” China said, standing up straight from the wall. Where he would be going he had no clue, since they were currently in Japan’s modest house which wasn’t easy to get lost in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him England sighed, “Have it your way, but don’t expect me to help if you suddenly need it. I’ll leave that to your family,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China froze and quietly whispered, “my family hates me. They wouldn’t help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure they would if you would have raised them properly,” England shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the European spoke China’s hands curled into small fists, “It’s not my fault that you ruined Hong Kong, or that Japan attacked me. Please don’t mention my family again aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh does it have to do with your family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” China stopped himself, this was a pointless argument. He couldn’t explain what about his family he regretted, there was no way that England would understand what he had lost. Even worse, maybe he would blame him for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing the Asian nation’s silence, England realized his mistake and reached out to put a hand on his arm, “Hey, it’s okay. I am sure that they don’t hate you for any of that,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China’s arms shook as he tried to keep in the uncontrolled tears in his eyes, England still thought that they were talking about his siblings. He was sure now that England wouldn’t understand, it was impossible for an outsider. In all of history he had only ever told the old medicine woman about it and she had died long ago, bringing his dirty secret with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“China please, listen to me, it’s not all your fault,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That line was too much. With a heart-wrenching sob, China started forward. Of course England didn’t know what the other personification felt like he was being told. He had tried to comfort himself so many times and didn’t want to hear that empty phrase ever again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England was slightly taken aback and called out after China as he ran down the hallway again, turning a corner and disappearing from sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Asian nation found refuge in the bathroom, and cowered next to the sink as he tried to get rid of his tears. Choked hiccups of agonized and uncontrolled sobbing assaulted his throat, making it hard to breath. Hands messily swept through his hair, stumbling over his nose and ears as his knees bent awkwardly in the tight space. He knocked over a plunger as he struggled to sit down, swearing in a language that he didn’t care to identify.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt almost dirty to give into his emotions like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was supposed to be happy, maybe a little dense, but able to hide his true feelings. All of the nations knew that. It was who he had been since the 9000s and he hadn’t changed yet, all he had to do was pretend he was happy, even if at times he could be an absolute warlord of god-like strength. Obviously now was not one of those times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wanted to lie down and die.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Four</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>After the meeting had ended so abruptly many of the nations had gone to their separate hotel rooms to recuperate and get ready for the next day’s meeting only a few stragglers remained. America was talking to Japan in the back of the living room, England was putting on his coat to leave, Russia was staying behind purposefully, and China was apparently having a mental breakdown of some sort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Russia had gathered from England’s muttered explanation to Japan was that China had gotten mad, started to cry, and ran down the hall in tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t sound too good even to Russia, who was a bit of a sadist himself, and most definitely not mentaly sound. Even so, as America and Japan talked in surprisingly hushed voices behind him Russia took a step down the hallway that China had run down. He felt drawn to the other nation at the moment, although he hadn’t really cared personally since before the Sino-Soviet split.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Russia took another mechanical step he heard America call out behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo commie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia cringed at the word, disliking the way it sounded and what it meant. It was irritating how some of the other nations still referred to him with the derogatory term even after he had changed his government. A few years ago when he had still been a communist country it had been annoying but now it was just plain hurtful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Ivan! I was talking to you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Russia finally turned around and smiled sweetly, hands clenching inside his long coat sleeves, “Please do not call me that America, you do not know me well enough anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America just laughed at this and waved his hand back and forth as if to say he didn’t care, although Russia thought he picked up on a little bit of insecurity, “Why would I stop doing so? What else would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be called?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia muttered under his breath, cursing the American’s persistence with as much malice as he could while focusing on other things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would wish that you could stop referring to me as ‘commie’ since it is an insult, though you don’t seem to know~,” Russia laughed childishly at the end of his sentence, telling the American that the best choice was to back out of the conversation and/or prepare to be annihilated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of listening to the obvious body language or to the aura now gathering around the Russian, America just laughed again before speaking again, “What were you even talking to China about today during the meeting? Why did you need to say it then? Can I tell the other countries what you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Russia stiffened in annoyance Japan took notice and stepped between the two countries, prepared to diffuse the situation, “Alfred, Russia-san, please do not fight, save that for when you are out of my country at least, I do not want to get involved in another world war at the moment,” his accent grated heavily on some of the English words but America seemed to get the picture. Japan turned to the Western country after sending a pitying glance towards Russia, “Alfred, you may stay at my house today, I heard you didn’t get a hotel room,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Asian nation led the American out of the room, keeping up a casual conversation as their bare feet padded over the wooden planks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although it was custom to take off their shoes inside in this country Russia had kept on his boots. The more his body was covered the safer he felt, even if it was quite warm here compared to his home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia knew that China had followed the custom, since it was the same at his own house. Many of the other nations also did so out of respect. But for Russia if it was somehow to become the norm in his country he probably wouldn’t change his personal ways since he always wanted to feel as comfortable as he could while being all alone in his home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he thought about this Russia casually turned and walked down the hallway, heading towards the bathroom where China seemed to have hidden. His boots made empty clunking noises against the hardwood but that was really the only sound, everything else was oddly quiet save for America’s voice echoing from the general direction of the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he got closer to the bathroom he started to hear quiet noises, probably half muffled sobs, in the empty hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god, he hadn’t planned this out at all. What if China got mad and succeeded in convincing his government that it was a valid reason to attack his still-ally Russia?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet immediately as this thought entered Russia’s mind he brushed it aside, well aware from experience that it was very difficult to convince a partially corrupted (or fully corrupted for that matter) government of anything. With that comfort in mind, Russia stepped up to the door, now fully sure that the noises were crying, and listened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had heard many types of crying in his time, and could tell that China definitely sounded hurt, by what he had no idea, and also pretty sad about something. A very basic type of crying, but it could easily be something very serious that was powering it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without truly thinking about what he was doing Russia turned the knob of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened it slowly, making sure that he wouldn't crush the other nation if he was behind the door. Lucky it only hit the wall behind it and didn’t hurt anyone directly. At first Russia didn’t realize where China was hiding and just stared forward in confusion but he finally saw him after shifting his gaze to the right a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring at Russia with wide tiger eyes and a hand over his mouth, struggling to keep in the leftover hiccups from his crying was China, who also happened to be sitting on the ground next to the toilet. There was a short silence of eye-contact that was only interrupted by the Asian personification’s involuntary sniffing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-hello China,” Russia stuttered as he walked into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him to maximize privacy, unaware of how creepy it looked, “is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second it seemed like the older nation was about to yell after the Russian said this, but then he managed to hiss out a slightly broken but still angry statement in Chinese.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t… I don’t speak…” Russia started, only to be cut off by China who said something else in the previously spoken language as he tried to stand from his awkward sitting position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After getting to his feet China looked Russia in the eyes before pausing to take a shaky breath, “I told you that you should leave,” His words were heavily accented and stated in English, a language both of them could understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking once, Russia tilted his head to the side, “I’m here because I want to know why you are…” he trailed off and gestured to China, “you know,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-crying?” China said with another involuntary hiccup that threw off the threat in his voice enough to be almost comical despite the hint of hysterical fury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Da,” Russia nodded solemnly before smiling, “that is exactly it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to tell you that aru,” China scoffed as he took a step closer to Russia, evidently trying to push past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nyet,” Russia insisted, “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China stopped at this, looking confused as to why the other personification had asked such a question. Russia never seemed to worry about the other nations around him, it was always about himself or at least trying to favor himself. There was never such a thing as a compromise with him and he usually showed it by how he acted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia noticed China’s confusion easily and smiled sweetly, genuinely trying to be nice, “Do not worry, I still want to be the one to crush you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assumed as mu-hu-ch,” China muttered, face darkening despite his awkward hiccup, “you never seem to care about others aru…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off as he tried to shove past the larger man but struggled a little, their height difference getting in the way of his attempts to push through, “Ai ya! Let me out already!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he said this Russia stepped out of the way and let China by, still burning to know what was specifically wrong. He knew that this nation didn’t usually just yell at people for no good reason. No, they had been allies far too often in the past for Russia to make that assumption like that anymore. Something had to be seriously wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him wanted to comfort China about whatever was bugging him but the much larger part wanted to exploit it and use it as an excuse to take his land. Possibly he could do both, comfort him to gain his trust but later betray him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done that before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China angrily swung the door open but stumbled a bit while leaving, clearly still embarrassed by Russia’s visit. He walked a few steps down the hallway calmly before starting at the sound of Russia’s boots on the wood floor and breaking into an awkward run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a few seconds he was gone, although Russia could still hear his now slowed footsteps through the paper walls of the Japanese house. He was clearly having a bad day, just like Japan had said. Usually due to politeness and honor and what-not most of the Asian countries, other than Hong Kong and South Korea, were able to stay composed but today didn’t seem to be one of those days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If something was up with him, even if they were still getting over some of the knots in their past, Russia would figure it out. He had to know everything about all of the nations if he wanted to take over the world and it is always easier to start with people you know, or at least to some degree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the next meeting date, which happened to be the next day, he would try to sit close to China, but he would not speak to him unless he got a hunch on something. This way he shouldn’t be too threatening to the older country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next few days Russia carried out his investigation, though nothing of interest, or anything new of interest, was found.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Five</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>Russia’s home felt lonely without the nations that had so recently left him. Even the Baltic states were gone now, it was really just him, sometimes the cat, and his thoughts. His house was a few miles out of Moscow where no one really ever thought to visit so the only real noises were the wind beating against the slowly collapsing walls and the whistling of the snow as it scraped on the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In this cold, regrettably silent, shelter he now sat. A few weeks had passed since their meeting and he was still aching to know what had caused China’s outburst. If he was lucky this outcome would help them to become better allies. Personally perhaps, or just through government. It was kind of hard to ‘get back together’ even if they had never dated and therefore never split up in the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their short fall-out had partially resulted in a win from the opposing side and brought Russia’s family to the ground. Truthfully he deserved it but that was something that he would never admit, especially to that American fool or himself. Though things were looking brighter for their political relationship things were still a little strained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia had kind of hooked up with the American a bit before this all went down. But no. No, no, no. That didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was to find out what was causing China to act differently so that their relationship would hopefully be improved. Even just small personal gain was enough for him to feel better about his current political place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Many new laws were being placed and many were being revoked at the same time. It kind of felt as though there was a weight lifting off his shoulders and he had the suspicion that it felt the same for many of his citizens. Yet so much was changing. It was really frightening in that way because no one could see what would come next. Much of the energy that he usually used for practical things like spying on others seemed to be sucked up so quickly by the basic process of trying to take care of his mental health.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet what he really needed to focus on now was China. The nation had acted very far from his normal personality and though Russia ever so slightly remembered incidents in history when he had acted similarly it still had to mean something. What little Russia had learned about how people worked included that if there seems to be some sort of breakage in their normal functions then something is up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What seemed particularly suspicious beyond the personality switch was that he seemed embarrassed afterwards. Usually when China did something, even if it was wrong, he didn’t really regret it. There had just been so many mistakes in his long life-time that it didn’t really matter anymore. Any regret was a sign that something was wrong. Just like any laugh, no matter how forced, had to mean something about how far he was willing to stretch his limits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Russia had been under the Mongolian Empire’s control, specifically in the short time when China had been as well, they had been put through a lot of stress mentaly within reach of each other. Even with the age gap, Russia had been able to learn a lot about how the Asian country reacted to pain and difficulties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now much of that had been dulled and he responded even less to pain then he had in the first place. Russia had experienced a similar thing as he grew up through countless battles. Amounts of pain just weren't the same anymore. They had been both affected in the terms of reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was another thing that made China’s actions suspicious. If he had felt uncomfortable or insulted enough to honestly speak up, let alone yell, there was probably a negative experience that triggered the reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either that or he was just over-thinking all of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he had just had a bad day like Japan said and it could be left at that, yet for some reason Russia felt that Japan also was aware of his former-caretaker’s out of place actions. If they were still in the same country, for Russia had neglected to confront the Japanese man while still in his household, he probably would have forced or somehow tortured agreement out of him. Though why the nation wouldn’t just tell him something as simple as an agreement was beyond his logic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It never got old, having to find things out about his world that he didn’t know beforehand. Maybe the secrets would be personal and he could use them as black-mail to get his way later on. Maybe they would be boring and lead to nothing. Nonetheless the chase was still his favorite part of the hunt, the end result always paled in comparison to the enjoyment he had in messing with other nation’s heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Creativity was often a big part of his schemes, even if it was in a child-ish and blundering way. Twists and turns, even having to question the fine line between trust and distrust often played a part in his investigations but really it was all for him in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for China he needed some background knowledge first, since much of what he knew had stuck from past memories that only held pain for both of them. Though research was boring, in this case it was also necessary in order to begin the chase. Maybe check up on recent history he had missed, possibly brush up on the subjects he had forgotten more about like The Period of the Warring States or whatever it was called. With a basic grasp on history he could begin to interpret what different battles and lashing-outs had meant in his life and see how it compared to his recent outburst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it was an overreaction Russia felt his heart racing at the prospect of a new project to work on. It would probably keep him from going insane over the next few weeks or however long it was until he was needed governmentally again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until the current god-awful snow storm subsided he was also stuck in his house to a level. Traveling would cause more effort and by extension it would take more money, which was something he didn’t have much of at the moment, either in the form of nation and national banks or his personal wage and money. He had many books about history, though it was usually just for show or decoration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he needed them, the books seemed much friendlier. Almost brighter in their old leather bounding or new plasticy sheen. What he needed was a history of a different country, which he had less of, since this was his house and he didn’t usually need to use books to look up a person. Often he would only stalk them instead or at the very least stop caring so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit of shuffling through the bookshelf pulled down four books of varying girth. One was more of an encyclopedia. It was one of the new books he had bought only a bit back at America’s place. Of course reading through </span>
  <em>
    <span>all that English</span>
  </em>
  <span> might be a struggle but he could always take a break to the other three books which were all in Russian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening one of the smaller books, careful not to bend it’s delicately bound spine too far, Russia skimmed a page or two. This one was about the silk road and other types or trade ‘throughout history’. Perhaps it would have been more helpful if it hadn’t been made around a hundred years back. Outdated was too soft a term. This book was carefully placed aside, to be examined later when he was getting desperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second Russian book was slightly smaller and resembled a sort of rule book, except instead of rules there were poems. This one was useless for this activity, though he might keep it aside for entertainment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third book he picked up was slightly larger than the last two and also thicker. After another quick skim he revealed that it was a slightly outdated history of the entire country that would have been helpful about sixty years prior. Maybe he would turn to this if he was struggling to translate some of the odd English words that they sometimes used.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had learned British English first, which was why some of American English came so slowly to him at times. England had tried to learn some of the American’s version but had given up quickly, so Russia hadn’t followed in his footsteps, seeing as he could understand most of both dialects. Yet then again...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was suddenly the only thing he could think about. Maybe he could help with the investigation? Yet this idea was inevitably shut down quickly. That selfish teen wouldn’t help him, especially if it had to do with China. He would probably become jealous and things would go undoubtedly wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very least he had identified an obstacle in the operation, America was a wildcard in the very best of situations and this would surely bury Russia deeper into the pages of his terrible books.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully closing the history book, Russia placed it on the pile with the others. So there he sat carefully contemplating what paths he could take in this game. To make it more interesting it would be so easy to introduce America, but at the same time this mission had a reason and a third player like the Westerner would surely jeopardize it. After collecting the major history he would probably go to China directly, maybe not to ask him but instead to ‘comfort’ him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, that seemed like a good move, he would study up and go to China as soon as the direct snowing stopped. At China’s he would gently ask about what happened, but only after he carefully and respectfully let himself into the house to say hello, just as he had so many times in the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then China would probably just tell him and the whole problem would be over, even if it was a regrettably boring way of using his time in such a slow chase. Maybe after earning the nation’s personal trust he would have America turn against them both with another fight. His reaction would probably be interesting to watch and to generally obsess over.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Six</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>China silently lay in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alone… again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clicking of the shades that covered his window as the wind outside softly blew them into the wall was almost a clock with how it counted the slow moving time. He himself hadn’t gotten much real sleep for a few weeks since the meetings. His human boss had not been happy with his outburst once he found out, stating that it might make them seem weak to the other countries. When China insisted that this specific outburst was not for a weak reason his boss had scoffed at him and sent him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had been right. The nations were probably thinking of ways to use his brief weakness against him. Even Sealand could probably find ways to exploit this for land or money via his people who still resided in the East Asian country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sealand was an interesting place and an even more interesting being in his own right. A child who had such a need to rule the world even if it seemed impossible in the beginning. He almost reminded him of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he was annoying, which was something China had hoped he wasn’t as a child. But there was still something endearing about his hopes and how hard he tried, though maybe that was just because he was still a kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh gods, was that why he had recognized him in such a way at the meeting?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling onto his side, China put his head in his hands. Willing the thought to go away even when it clearly wouldn’t. Children were sort of his weakness and he hoped no one would ever figure that out since it was both personal and extremely exploitable. Chen… or was it going to be Chunhua? He couldn’t really remember, and he tried his best not to let the memories penetrate his usually well guarded and blank thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost felt bile in his throat as he sat up, loudly cursing to himself and punching the mattress beside him. It creaked loudly as he shifted his weight to a kneeling position, gradually lowering himself down in a way he hoped would be calming to his revengeful memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding his head again he brought his upper body down until his cheeks were resting against his shaking knees. He couldn’t think about the loss, especially when he was so alone in such a vulnerable state as he was now. Clenching his teeth he sucked in a bit of air before letting it out again in a short puff. A moment later he squeezed his head a bit harder with his hands, preparing to take another hopefully calming breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shaky deep breath that filled his lungs next almost covered the loud cracking noise he heard from outside of his open window. Almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment he was silent, frozen in that position without letting out the air from his body. Eyes now locked on the still moving blinds, searching for a shadow, anything that could indicate immediate danger. He hated his instinct based reaction to surprises, if he could get over the past that controlled that then maybe he could forget what controlled his emotional pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When no new noise followed the first he quietly sat up again, head turned to the window. His eyes narrowed as he scrunched up his nose, softly and involuntary sniffing for anything that seemed obviously out of place. When he seemed to get a whiff of a familiar smell, from where he didn’t know, he silently stood, save for the creaking springs as he placed a foot on the floor next to his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost not surprised by his calm approach at the situation he let his instincts take over as he pulled back the shade, peering into the darkness. It took a second to process why he didn’t see the dark street and why there seemed to be a face looking back in at him before he realized that the reason he couldn’t see the street was because there was a face looking in at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an involuntary hiss he jumped back, narrowly avoiding falling onto his bed. Scrambling for something that could be used as a weapon he cursed himself for leaving the kitchen knives in the kitchen where they were supposed to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a second or two he grasped onto his wok, which for some reason was on the nightstand again. Wielding this weapon he threw open the blinds from where they had fallen shut, a silent moment of confusion followed as he peered around his yard, not seeing anyone anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Yao,” softly snickered a high pitched voice from near the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whipping around, China switched hands on the kitchen utensil, pointing it toward the sound with his right arm this time. His long hair whipped into his face and into his mouth but he spit it out again, furious that he was thwarted in protecting his house. But suddenly resignation crossed his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Russia aru?!” His weapon wielding arm drooping slighting as he felt his fear subside into confusion for a moment. Heat rising to his face as he realize how ridiculous he must have looked from a different perspective.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Said nation smiled, his eyes briefly closing in happiness as he rolled up onto the balls of his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. “Did I scare you~?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China spluttered, taking his defensive stance again, wrapping his other hand around the handle of the wok again. “No! I... you-! 我勒個去!!!” Stomping his left foot and taking an angry step towards the younger nation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Russia raised his hands, “Why are you angry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?!” China retorted as he swung the wok down and dropped it at his feet, “and,” he angrily stated as he stepped closer to his ally and poked his chest with an index finger, “how the hell did you get in aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking twice before he responded, Russia forced a smile and took China’s hand in his, noticing it made the jittery nation startle. “I wanted to talk to you~.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China tried to pull his hand away from the Russian’s, only to find it stuck there for the time being. Stomping his foot again he growled at the larger country, “but </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you get into my house aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! I just went in through the door, well, after startling you through the window.” Russia chuckled as he pulled the Asian man closer to him by his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jerking said appendage back and farther away from Russia’s chest China growled even lower, “The door was locked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Da.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you unlocked my door first and then came inside after scaring me aru?!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Da, that is correct.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet again stomping his foot as he tried to yank his hand away from the vice-like grasp that held it in place, China angrily hissed at his captator, furious at his actions and slightly threatened by the amount of planning that had gone into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia smiled and pulled the older man closer to him, “I just want to talk to you, is that really such a problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spluttering, China protested as his governmental ally pulled him closer and eventually forced him into a hug. Squirming seemed to do nothing against the younger man’s relentless hold around him but that didn’t stop the Asian from doing so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Russia!” he whined, “let go of me this instant or I will really try to get free aru!” Perturbed by the actions of the man who was hugging him, China tried to kick his knee but the Russian simply sidestepped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to talk,” Russia purred, “there are things I need to find out…” but he stopped himself since his words had seemed very ominous. He spun China around so that he could rest his chin on the man’s head, holding his hands crossed across his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a brief pause of confused struggling China wiped his head around to face the man holding him in place again, “What? What do you need to find out aru? Also if you don’t take your arms off me I. Will. Bite. You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally dropping his gloved hands by his sides Russia smiled softly at his ally, “if you talked to me I could tell you, da?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deflating slightly, China spun around to face the other before taking another step backwards and away from Russia, briefly slipping over the wok he had dropped. Cursing as he regained his footing China glared at the Russian, “talk about what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Russia giggled childishly, “just talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took another step towards the Chinese man, who in turn backed up into a corner of the room, pressing his palms against the walls. As he stopped walking again Russia sighed, “I’m not going to hurt you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yet</span>
  </em>
  <span> aru.” China growled, his vocal tick barely audible over his heavy breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling sadly Russia whispered in agreement, “Yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently China stared into Russia’s eyes, unable to comprehend what his words were trying to get across. Disgust edged his voice when he spoke again, “What the hell are you trying to say aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia frowned, “I told you,” taking a step closer towards China, who shied away, “I want to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In exasperation Russia threw up his arms, “Why do you care? I’m worried about you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China stared at him, silently mouthing another ‘why?’ as he shied even further into the corner and squinted his eyes slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching forward and grabbing China’s forearm, Russia pulled him out of his not-so-hidden hiding spot. Even as he resisted Russia could feel China’s resolve ebing. Letting go of his arm again Russia grabbed his shoulders, “I’m worried about you because of how you acted the last time we saw each other,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, China turned away, “I knew my boss was right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning and dropping his arms, Russia spoke up, “the dragon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waving his hand dismissively, China sighed as he anxiously lifted an index finger to tap the tip of his nose, “No no, the human, he said that people would use my acting out against me aru…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not using it against you!” Russia protested, “I want to talk to you, I swear that's it.” Though he knew that he was telling a slight lie he tried his hardest to sound sincere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China swallowed as he closed his eyes, dragging his finger up the bridge of his nose before dropping it to his side again. A soft sigh from him was the only noise in the room for a moment, making Russia feel the chill of sudden loneliness that filled the space now that the other nation was calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will talk to you, but you must apologize for scaring me and breaking into my house aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, Russia nodded, “that's alright, I’m very interested to know what was causing you such a great distress,” the broken English just barely covered up his smile, he was getting what he wanted finally. The amount of studying that had gone into this hadn’t been too helpful but it had given him some references that he could drag ideas and theories from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China nodded slowly, “Right…” he said, “so, you first. Go down the stairs aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia stared slightly inquisitively at him before China sighed again, “I’m not going in front of you, I need to make sure your not going to mess with me or my house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raising his eyebrows, Russia shrugged with a slight tilt of his head, “Da, that makes sense I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does aru,” China growled before gesturing towards the door with a stray movement, “now please, capitalists first.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Seven</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>The two men sat at the table, neither wanting to speak first. Russia wanted his Asian ally to come up with the answer that he was looking right away but China wanted him to speak first, since he didn’t know what Russia wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Observing how he was sitting, Russia noticed that China seemed stressed, or maybe it was annoyed? But then of course he was, Russia had just broken into his house only a few minutes back. The nation’s arms were crossed as his eyes blankly stared from their sockets, sitting darkly over gray bags under his eyes. The dark brown hair that framed his face was tangled, half of it fallen out of a seemingly halfhearted messy bun that was placed on the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question surprised Russia, forcing him to adjust his focus to China’s eyes, a soft smile spreading over his face as he tried to think of something to say, “What is it Yao?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing and uncrossing his arms, leaning forward onto his elbows after resting them on the table, “Do you want to interrogate me or not aru? I’m not sitting here to look pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chucking at the bitter words the nation spat at him, Russia smiled more, “No I had questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China narrowed his eyes into golden-black slits, “Then get to them Ivan,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Russia stretched, leaning backwards and cracking his knuckles above his head, shaking slightly with a strained yawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, China rested his chin on one hand, “You know, if you were tired then you shouldn’t have broken into my house in the middle of the night aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah,” the Russian groaned, “I get it, anyway, would you like to tell me if you are okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” the Asian country asked, clearly uncomprehending, “why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh the larger man continued, “It’s important, just answer. I’ll ask the questions and you answer them, I’m sure you're familiar with this right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, China rolled his eyes, “But what if I’m uncomfortable with the question aru and don’t want to answer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cricket loudly chirped outside of the carved wooden window and Russia turned to face the noise, trying to take his mind off the other man’s refusal to cooperate. Humming gently under his breath he responded, “Don’t answer it if you really don’t want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An seemingly impossible amount of time later China nodded slightly, “Right,” he whispered through gritted teeth, “got it aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding as well Russia forced a smile, “So, are you currently feeling emotional well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China rolled his eyes, “Kinda, sometimes aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is what? Is this an interrogation like it should be or therapy aru?” crossing his arms again, China leaned back with an unimpressed frown and tilted his head to the right, his hair falling in strings over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugg!” Russia groaned, biting his lip and narrowing his eyes in frustration, “just tell me why you are ‘kinda’ well, I want to know how you are doing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do I owe you aru?!” China hissed as he leaned forward again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Russia spat into his gloved hands as he covered his face in obvious frustration, “You don’t owe me anything, I’m just worried!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China exhaled heavily through his nose before speaking through gritted teeth, trying to defuse the situation, “Fine. Fine, I can tell you parts of it, the rest is personal and I don’t trust people who break into houses aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia forced a tight smile over his darkened emotions, “Wonderful.” He spat, stressed by the level of hate in his ally’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” China started before pausing again and tentatively continuing, “Wait, what do you want me to tell you aru?” His words sounded a tiny bit regretful but Russia still growled in annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the love for the Tsar China! Just answer!” As his true emotions came out he had to catch himself, briefly pausing before taking a deep breath and exhaling again. Covering his frustration with a mask of a smile he continued childishly, “Tell me why your emotions are happening, da?” He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, smiling happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking once, twice, a third time, China sighed. “Okay. I can tell you the basis of it aru, but only that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please continue,” Russia purred, eager to get his answer at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning his gaze away from Russia and firmly planting his eyes on the wall China declared, “America was acting as if he was the only one that lost a lot aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbfounded by the simplicity of the answer Russia nodded slowly, “In the war?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Cold War aru?” China turned to face the Russian, an incredulous expression on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Da, that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not only ‘that one’ aru, all of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the wars?” Russia tilted his head, confused as he stared at the other’s blank expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrunching up his nose slightly and frowning, China nodded, “Yes, all of them aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia shrugged and closed his eyes, lowering his eyebrows in quite confusion, “Da. I suppose that makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking again China closed one eye and frowned, turning his gaze to the other corner of the ceiling, “Yes. I lost a lot,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another pause that stretched between the two. But China suddenly caught himself, both of his eyes snapped open as he raised his shoulders in embarrassment, a blush lightly spreading across his face with the frantic edge in his voice, “I mean- we all lost a lot, not trying to take away from everyone else’s losses, that would make me as bad as that American-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia hurriedly cut him off, “No no no, it’s alright! I understand!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China sat silently, face taunt and drawn into a tight expression. His fists were firmly placed beside him, pressing into the wood hard enough to lighten his knuckles to a weak off-white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing and leaning forward Russia looked into his ally’s face, who in turn refused to look back at him. “Yao, I don’t care. It’s fine. Please continue with your explanation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ivan,” China whispered as he closed his eyes, expression changing into a more pained frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D-da?” Russia asked, stuttering tentatively. He felt sorry for the nation but at the same time the thrill of the chase was starting to chip away at any true feeling of emotion he was feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I can’t tell you aru. It’s way too personal and you won’t want to know after you figure it out.” He rubbed his eyes as he leaned a bit forward, keeping his arms close to his body as he shook slightly and gritted his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia felt himself deflate, “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aware of the sadness in his voice, China looked up again, “You will eventually find out, I’m just not going to tell you myself aru. It’s inevitable for every secret to eventually come out after you've been keeping them for a couple thousand years aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ ‘Secret’ ?” Russia asked, leaning forward with anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not telling you Ivan,” China whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head half-frantically, “You will find out when it is time for you to find out. Not before or after aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia deflated in his seat, shoulders lowering ever so slightly as he closed his eyes. “Is it really that bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China’s brow furrowed, “It’s not… it’s not the worst thing that could happen, if that’s…” he trailed off, slapping his hand to his face, scrunching up his expression to try to hide the severe emotional pain that had resurfaced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders shook as he tried to keep the sudden tears down. Russia stared at him silently, unable to hide the blankness in his expression now that it seemed as though his answer would not come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a moment to collect himself, China lowered the hand that was over his mouth, taking a few deep breaths before reopening his eyes. “I was kind of stupid okay? Now I’m torn up about it. That's the basis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood from his sitting position, his eyes following Russia as the other also stood. “You might know in a few years, I’m sure you can wait that long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia’s expression hardened from it’s blankness as he saw the resignation behind China’s eyes, “Da,” he muttered, “probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China looked worriedly at him, “I’m sorry alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia nodded with a soft and icey sigh, “I know that,” he whispered under his breath as China forced a sad smile over his nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you understand,” China breathed, “I know that you’ve been around for a while as well, you know how secrets are…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia nodded again, harder this time as he closed his eyes. He certainly had secrets, many many nasty words that threatened to crawl from his mouth when he was mad or drunk. Although he would hate to admit it to himself, he knew that all of the nations had hidden parts of their past that no one other than themselves knew of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was aware that he should accept that and trust that China would tell him eventually. He had to respect the other’s opinion, even if it was aggravating personally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Da.” the Russian said, standing up straighter, “Я знаю.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“感謝上帝,” China groaned, “Okay,” his accent heavy after speaking the few words in his native language, the Asian nation looked up at the taller one, “I’ll see you whenever time says we have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia bowed his head, “Stay well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“謝謝。” China stated, seeing the confused twinge in the Russian’s eyes, “It means ‘thank you’.” He hurriedly reassured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“И благодарю вас, Я надеюсь увидеть вас снова.” Russia said as he turned to the door, not bothering to translate for his ally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the door shut he walked a few steps down the street, appreciating the dawn redwoods that grew nearby. But his expression slowly solidified into a resentful, tight lipped frown. Though it seemed harsh, the main emotions he felt were annoyance in his failure to acquire the information he wanted oh so much and exasperation towards the other nation’s refusal to cooperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for China, the emotions that he had been keeping in were threatening to boil over again. He refused to break down while Russia was still in sight however, knowing that the younger man would probably find out and also use it against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood at the carved wood door, absentmindedly tracing the designs with his left index finger. The other hand combed through his hair, bringing it back behind his ear over and over again as it slipped out of place again and again. He was trying to think of something but he felt only a fuzzy blankness in his head, rendering him incapable of thinking about anything meaningful other than the last hour or so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even that was twisted and far away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why had Russia wanted to know the ‘secret’ so badly?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly he shook his head, brain clearing for a moment. And why had he complied with the Russian’s questions at first? What had gotten into him? There was no way that he could afford to trust anyone with his past, he didn’t really even trust himself with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as he had said, everyone would eventually know. Even now he knew of close calls in the past when he had nearly let the words slip from his lips into the other nations, or worse, his boss’ ears. There were times where it felt horribly clique, as if he was some twenty something woman in a European novel who cried every night about her infertility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was none of those things. He wasn’t a woman, and honestly that was probably part of the problem. He wasn’t infertile, he just got unlucky the first time. It may have started due to a medicine, but it was still valid, and people now knew that after one miscarriage woman are still just as likely to have a healthy child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In those ways he was unlike the women in the books, and he didn’t cry </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> night about it, it only happened occasionally when he hit an emotional snag or experienced a trigger. Whatever the Russian had actually wanted to know had something to do with his secret, and he seemed to know that there was one even before China had outright told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t distrust the man, they were still allies, but he definitely didn’t trust him either. It would take a while for his pre-set walls to fall.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Eight</b>
</h3><p>
  <em>
    <span>The time is a few days before Russia surprises China but breaking into his house. The place is America’s house, where Japan has been staying in order to set up a few business deals in the country...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The American threw his head back, leaning over the back of his chair with a yawn and a stretch, “Man, Japan dude, I can’t believe you're going back home so soon! We still have so many restaurants to explore!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan’s brow furrowed, “H-hai… but Alfred-san, you have to understand that I have to go back-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could have gone to some restaurants upstate! They have great garbage plates and shit up there, you would love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slightly frustrated by the American’s strange and oddly persistent hospitality, Japan placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Alfred, you have already shown me many restaurants in New York.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America opened his eyes and sat up quickly, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on Japan’s, “But only the city! The bagels and crap here are good, but the garbage plates in the non-city bits are even better!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go home,” Japan insisted, gently pulling America up from his seat, “it’s not my choice, the government wants me back okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taller male pouted, pulling his Nokia phone out of his pocket, pressing a button and turning it on. Japan grit his teeth, the nation had almost no attention span, which was fitting for what country he lived in, not to mention the specific state and city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Checking the calendar page and turning the handheld phone to his friend’s face, America pointed to an image of his plan for the next few days. “But I wanted to bring you to this place, it’s so nice there! And Wegmans is a must-see I swear to you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing loudly, Japan slowly pushed the phone out of his face, “Alfred I need to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throwing his head back and groaning America dropped his hand’s to his sides, “Ugg, fine. I get it, but next time we happen to be in this state I’m getting you some true up-state wings, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know! I know,” Japan hurriedly yelped, “...’and if we are down south we are getting steak and pulled pork’, I’m aware.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A big grin spread across the American’s face as he clapped his hands together, “and if the next meeting is in California I’m getting you sour bread and clam chowder! Aa, I can’t wait already!!!” He happily bounced up and down once, an ecstatic grin on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan nodded quickly, “But I do have to go back, my boss is waiting and I should check on China…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately changing moods, America stopped bouncing and narrowed his eyes at the mention of their common enemy, “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About my boss?” Japan asked, taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” huffed America, “I meant the comunist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“China?” Japan asked, a small smile twitching at the edge of his lips, “What about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you need to see him? What do you need to check on?” America’s eyes were narrowed as he stared into the Japanese man’s eyes, a dark blankness filling his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost scared by the quick change in personality, though he had been expecting it, Japan nervously stared back at his friend, “Because he was acting strangely… and I’m… curious? I suppose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm…” America hummed, his eyebrows lowering more over his eyes as he partially glared at the man facing him. The way his head was tilted made his glasses catch the light slightly, hiding part of his right eye behind the shine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweating slightly Japan looked intensely back at the teen, worrying that he would become distant, and therefore dangerous again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This awful staring contest persisted until suddenly the taller nation started laughing, leaving the other relieved while ever so slightly confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are right about that,” the western teen snickered, “he was acting pretty damn weird, but I didn’t know you cared about him! Aren’t you enemies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yes,” stuttered Japan, a light blush across his cheeks at the hilarity his friend seemed to find in the situation, “I am his enemy, I was worried!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worried?” America said, a bemused smirk painting his face as he tilted his head in curiosity, “that's different than curious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was!” Japan snapped, “both are valid emotions for this situation!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright alright,” America said as he stifled another fit of laughter, bringing his head back into its resting position, “I understand, but how quickly do you have to leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan stared at him, mouth slightly agape as he tried to understand the nation’s emotions and thought process. Shutting it and sighing, closing his eyes and giving up on the train of thought, Japan groaned, “I have to leave by tomorrow morning, there’s a flight I have to catch…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” America smiled, “I could try to drive you there, I got my driver’s license in nineteen ‘o three, plus, the traffic here is awful for the tired brain of a person who sleeps!” He laughed at his own self deprecating joke as Japan swallowed, slightly uncomfortable with the odds of the American crashing his car in New York city at four in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thank you,” Japan forced a smile, “I can drive myself, or maybe take a bus or something,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deflating at getting his offer turned down, America pouted, “Do you not trust me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not wanting to share the truth, Japan paused and struggled with his words before finally spoke again, uttering a </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> white-lie that he knew was better for the situation than telling the truth, “No, I just think you deserve to sleep in, since you're always up so late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ ‘Kay…” America frowned, “I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan nodded, lifting his arm slightly to check the watch on his wrist, “I know it may be abrupt,” he started, “but I really should be going to bed soon, since I will have to wake up so early tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a slight nod, the other nation smiled hugely, “and when you get up in the morning I’ll have a big breakfast waiting for you! I hope you like American bacon, sausage, and waffles!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling at his friend, Japan’s eyes softened, though he didn’t really expect the physically teen aged country to get up early enough to cook breakfast, “That sounds wonderful Alfred-san, I will need the energy for my fourteen hour flight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a laugh, America rocked onto the balls of his feet and then back again, “Great!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With another soft, appreciative smile, the Asian country turned and walked off to the guest room. Behind him he could hear the clicking of plates and the soft happy humming of a rock song as the westerner cleaned up the dishes from their dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if it scared him how much calories his ally consumed, and how much food dye was used in baking, Japan had to admit that his cooking was pretty good. He almost felt happy at the prospect of another huge meal the next day but he caught himself, reminding his stomach that there was no way the sleep deprived teen would get up at two in the morning to cook him another huge breakfast.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Nine</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>He was wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America did in fact get up at two in the morning, and he sure as heck cooked a giant breakfast for them to eat before Japan got on the bus to the airport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God there was so much food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That morning Japan was greeted with a loud and happy announcement of, ‘would you like orange juice or instant coffee? The orange juice is kind of warm though, I sort of left it on the counter overnight.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even before responding with a surprised and stuttery, “C-coffee please-” a cup had been shoved into his hands and he was being pushed down in a folding chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had hurriedly devoured a waffle and a few oily breakfast sausages before excusing himself and standing up, apologizing but saying that he had to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While rushing out the door, Japan said goodbye to his friend, who was still happily chowing down on the bacon that the Japanese nation hadn’t been able to finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How he ate so much food on a daily basis and still managed to stay fit always perplexed many of the other nations, England and Japan the most of all. He knew there was exercise involved, and quite possibly marathons occasionally since that seemed to be a part of his culture in some states, but it was still always rather shocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the plane he had time to plan out his visit to his former caretaker, as he would be taking a plane from Tokyo to Beijing a day after he landed in his home country. After he visited his self-proclaimed-brother he would travel back, hopefully having comforted him a bit, or at least confirming that he had gotten better since the meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While the sky brightened around the plane the people near him spoke to each other in various languages, many whispering or trying to get a bit of a nap on their way through the time zones. The woman beside him snored softly, her dark brown hair curled softy around her face. Since they were leaving at around four AM and the time it would be when they finished their flight would be around six thirty two AM Japan didn’t blame her at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did, however, grimace at the thought of the long flight. Even if the times seemed to convey only a few hours, everyone on the plane was painfully aware of the near fourteen they would have to spend cramped in the small space until they were set free once again and set foot onto the linoleum floors of the Japanese airport that waited for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what was really on Japan’s mind was not the slow-burning anxiety that his brain was instead replacing with his regular fear of flying oversea. Usually in war he was in the naval forces and rarely used planes himself. Perhaps it was the inherent terror from the honor driven tactics of his people in World War II.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuddered, pulling himself together. He had to stay calm throughout this flight, no one could detect any sort of weakness from him, a nation, in such a public place. Though he doubted that any of the mostly American and Japanese people around him would personally find a way to hurt him through it he had to be careful. Being such a personification meant that he had to always question who he trusted, even if he felt as though he knew their intentions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never letting anyone let on to your full emotions or the reasons behind them was crucial for survival. Even if the past had been far worse it was still a cutthroat place in the modern world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bringing himself back to Earth, or rather to air, he gently shook his head, chuckling at his own irrational fears. In order to combat his anxieties he softly slipped a book from his carry-on, apologizing as he accidentally bumped the arm of the woman who sat next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A good thirteen hours or reading, politely chatting, and napping later, he found himself sluggishly padding down the walkway between the plane and his home airport. The floor creaked beneath the passengers and their suitcases. Although it felt nice to be back he knew that he would soon be leaving for another day and another two plane rides on his own accord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn't admitted to his boss the reason behind his travel, only saying that he wanted to try to improve relations and would not get in any fights that would make the already tense atmosphere worse between the high-strung personalities and opposite governments of the East Asian nations. He knew of the lack of awareness in his personal life within his government and sometimes took advantage of it for various reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of these reasons was family, another being his still well maintained friendship with the rest of the former Axis powers. But one thing he certainly did not use it for was to see Russia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So of course it was surprising when he saw that very man near the doors to the streets of Tokyo. He noticeably jumped, and the sound of his luggage thumping against the tiled floor caught the Russian’s attention. They stared at each other for a moment before Russia glanced away for a second, looking briefly at a booklet that rested in his right hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting over his initial shock, Japan closed his mouth, which he had not realized had been open,  and took a few curious steps toward the other personification. Conversation was not ideal, but he knew his government would appreciate it if he at least found out what his recently decided ally was doing without his government in Tokyo unannounced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking down and the shorter man from his booklet Russia feigned  a surprised, delighted smile, “Привет япония,” he greeted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan bowed ever so slightly, “こんにちはロシア,” he muttered back before straighten again and looking up into the Russian’s light violet eyes, “What brings you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling sweetly again, Russia closed his eyes, “Why is that of your interest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning softly, Japan blinked his tired eyes, “I was just curious, and it is strange to find you in my country, especially in such a coincidence as his one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Russian nodded, “Reasonable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence stretched between them, filled only by the bumbling and soft talking of the people around them. Coughing in order to rekindle the already thin conversation, Japan tilted his head to the side, “would you mind telling me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips curling into a sneer, Russia’s eyes darkened, “I would mind, but will tell you if you do not really trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ruff accent stung Japan’s ears as he nodded quickly, “I do trust you Russia, but I still want you to to provide me with an answer,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twisting into another cruel smirk, Russia’s expression got darker, “I will tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two nations talked as Russia slowly led Japan out of the door onto the sidewalk. Telling him that he was taking a flight to Moscow from the Japanese capital Russia explained to the shorter man that he had been to China’s house, not confiding the details or the direct reason that he had visited their fellow personification. Japan had admitted that he was planning to visit him as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia laughed bitterly. “You aren’t going to find out anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Questioning his words, Japan blinked, “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning and looking up at the sun that sat slightly to the side in the sky Russia explained, “He isn’t going to explain his actions at the meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan’s brow furrowed, their accents clashing horribly as he tried to understand the Russian, “Is he okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia raised his eyebrows as the East Asian man, “He’s better, but I think I scared him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing under his breath Japan sighed miserably, “Scared him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waving his hand as if it was nothing, the Russian rolled his eyes, “as I said, he didn’t give any information on what influenced his personality switch. I think he is doing better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tilting his head back in exhaustion Japan scrunched his eyes shut, “Well that doesn’t make me feel better at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes glinting, Russia smirked at him, “Are you worried?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia shrugged, sliping a slight lie into the conversation, “Of course I am,” he purred, “but you are not his ally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Japan’s eyes snapped open he knew he had hit the right nerve. “But I do care,” Japan said, desperately placing a hand over his heart, “I may near-hate him but I have also known him for a very, very long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling again, Russia nodded, placing a hand on his semi-ally’s shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, “I have also known him for awhile, perhaps we could see what we can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brow furrowing, Japan frowned, “what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We work together!” Declared Russia happily, laughing internally at the gullibility of the older man. But yet maybe with two nations working to find the secret Russia would get his answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, the chase was always the best part!</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Ten</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>*this chapter mentions some of my state OC’s and José and Eduardo, who are the Mexico characters that I settled on for this story, I hope that no one minds!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone buzzed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the third ring the call was answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he proudly stated, ‘Hi, you called The Hero?’ Japan had taken his shoes and coat off, shrugging the heavy fabric off onto the hook that held it. The phone pinned between his ear and shoulder, he had swiftly entered the kitchen and sat at the table, knee bouncing nervously as he shifted his phone to his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” The American asked again, louder this time before hardening his voice, “Are you trying to sell me shit? Because I don’t want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, America-san,” Japan said hurriedly, “It’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh! Japan! Why are you calling me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But America swiftly cut him off, his growing smile evident even through audio, “Dude, do you wanna come over again? Maybe down to Texas this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… no. Not yet.” Japan sighed as he pressed his tips into a thin frown, squeezing his eyes closed. It had been a long day, meeting with Russia, texting China, not getting many answers, the whole package. To top it all off he had dropped the nikuman bun he had bought at the convenience store on his way back to his house. Though Alfred was his friend sometimes his high energy was hard to deal with after stress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The American’s word had barely registered in Japan’s mind, but he caught onto the saddening emotion in his voice before drifting off into self-pity for the food he had wasted. Instead he spoke again, almost regurgitating the message that Russia had told him to give the American.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m working with Russia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a silence, and Japan could almost feel the shock and fear through the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” America choked, “Are you betraying me!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing his mistake and that his friend thought he meant in war, which was what he should have assumed would have happened, Japan cursed quickly, “Aa, no, Alfred, I’m not betraying you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young nation exhaled, voice shaking slightly with relief, “God, Japan you nearly gave me a heart attack! Don’t do that again…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Yes. I won’t Alfred, I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I thought so.” America sighed, his voice wobbling and anxious. Though he was trying to hide it, for a moment he had been ligenimently sad. Anger hadn’t been his first emotion, which scared him. To stay safe, personifications like him were supposed to not be attached to others, people or countries. Instinctively, they had to be in Fight or flight mode much of the time. Freezing like he had wasn’t an option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” America said, drawing out the syllable, “what </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Russia wants to find out something about China.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blankness in the statement surprised Japan, he had expected a laugh, or at the very least an octave change. It didn’t even sound like a question, there was no higher note at the end of the word, no confusion. Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing Japan’s silence, America asked the question again, some emotion is his voice. “Why does he want to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan started to say something but America laughed loudly, “I mean, what is there to find out? He was just being weird!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aah, yes, I think so as well, though ‘weird’ may not be the politest word for it.” Japan hummed as he drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meh,” America sighed, a rustling sound in the background giving away how he was sitting down, “I’m still pretty strongly politically against him, my boss is kind of telling me I should dislike him as well, though they also said that for Russia and I can sometimes get along with him…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan hummed again, nodding to himself though he knew America couldn’t see it, “I know Alfred. I know, but I kind of want your help…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” America asked, sneezing loudly at the end of his statement, “Sorry man, been a little ‘bleck’ recently…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh are you okay?” Japan asked, furrowing his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, just a little ‘bleck’, not like I wanna die or something, why do you want my help? And with what? You got Russia for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking note of how he only called Russia ‘commie’ to his face, Japan scratched the back of his head, “I just don’t know how long I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> get along with Russia, it's not that I don’t like him as a person, it's more that our governments will try to split us up…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breaking off to let America sneeze again, Japan glanced to the window of his kitchen before continuing, “and, between me and you, I don’t really trust them together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America laughed loudly, “Same dude! I mean, it's probably not a good idea to have a comunist power and a formerly communist power together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hai…” Japan smiled softly, his eyes becoming sadder, “Russia is going to talk to China again, though he said it was to apologize for scaring him, it's not related to this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scaring him?” America snorted, “How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan blushed, “He broke into his house…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America let out a loud guffaw, “What?! Oh man, that's so… like, great but not great! That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> expected of him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As America continued laughing, Japan struggled not to start to laugh as well, his face pulling into a wide but closed-mouth smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling into lines that only occasionally showed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay okay,” America sighed, his smile still evident in his voice though he had stopped laughing, “I’ll help you, but just for you, not Russia or China.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a soft smile, Japan nodded, “Thank you America, that is very appreciated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But dude,” the American said, sounding suddenly uncertain, “what </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you want me to do exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan shrugged, for a moment forgetting that his friend couldn’t see him, “I… I don’t have anything specific yet… but I will eventually if that is alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America snorted and Japan hurriedly spoke again, “I- I mean, I’m sorry Alfred, I’m sure we could find a job right now-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The American again cut him off, “No no no,” he smiled, “I don’t mind at all, my lazy ass can barely get out of bed most of the time, and I had some business to deal with for my states, when you have a job for me you can call me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan exhaled, blushing slightly, “This is a major relief, thank you very much Alfred-san…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem!” He grinned over the phone, “And when you find out what ever you're looking for from China please come over, I miss you buddy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan’s face twisted into another smile, “Thank you America, I miss you also.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always,” America grinned, “when you can come I want you to meet Texas though,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t I…?” Japan frowned, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no,” his friend laughed, “you met Alambama and Louisiana last time we were down South, Texas was away in a meeting with José and Eduardo in Mexico, probably arguing about something…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” brushed the small Japanese man again, “I didn’t know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah it’s fine!” America smiled again, “I hope you have a fun time or whatever meeting up with Russia or however it’s going to go, if you don’t mind, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>kinda</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a government meeting that I’m late for already,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Exclaimed Japan, “さようなら America-san!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye!” America giggled as he brought the phone away from his ear, pressing one of the buttons to end the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat on the couch for a moment, processing his conversation. It wasn’t like he was annoyed by it, he really did appreciate Japan’s trust in him, it was one of his favorite things about his ally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was also well aware of how much he clashed with Russia. Again, it wasn’t straight up hate, he had hoped for a friendship at some point, maybe more than just that, but this wasn’t the time. The Cold War had only ended a few years earlier and he was sure that Russia should have had better things to do than worry about someone who he had so recently disagreed with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true that Russia and China were allies and America was mildly aware of the fact that they had known each other much much further back since they were both very old nations. It had something to do with Mongolia, he knew that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet Russia just… didn’t seem like a person who would genuinely worry about something as random as one outburst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t feel right.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter Eleven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Eleven</b>
</h3><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know that he was acting strangely...” Japan was sighing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Very much so…” Purred Russia, placing his full coffee cup on the table between his hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With a nod Japan closed his eyes, “It surprised me also, but why do you seem just as intrigued as me, maybe more so? I have know China for a very long time as you know...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Russia let a small puff of air out of his nose, pushing the cup that sat between his hands from the right to the left twice before asking his own question and looking up into the smaller man’s black eyes, “What makes you so troubled by that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Japan shrugged ever so slightly, just barely letting Russia catch onto it, “It’s not that it's troubling, I’m just interested to know why you are so suddenly captivated by my brother.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Russian frowned, stopping the movement of his coffee cup with his right hand, “Brother?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knitting his eyebrows together Japan bit his lower lip, frowning at the table, “Well… kind of, not really, we aren’t actually related.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I see.” Russia muttered, bringing his lips into a tight line. Obviously the nation who now sat across from him did not know that Russia was merely curious, even if he was curious to see how he could harm or manipulate people around him with the information. However, he had also known China for a ridiculously long time, and far in the past they had even been friends.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Coughing, discomfort evident in his eyes at the short response from the Russian, Japan twisted his abdomen to the right and left by a few inches before facing forward again, “R-right, but Russia, there </span>
  </em>
  <span>is</span>
  <em>
    <span> something that I want to… to warn you about.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Russia tilted his head to the side as he sat up straighter, automatically listening intently for clues, “What is this warning?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“China isn’t going to tell you anything specific,” the Asian man frowned worriedly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I-” Russia looked confused for a silent moment before continuing, “I knew that already, why?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Japan blinked, “Well... he has a lot of secrets from the past? What other reason?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That's not what I- ugg, fine. Yes, I understand that quite well,” Russia bit the side of his bottom lip, “do you know any of these secrets?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No.” Japan immediately said, shaking his head quickly from side to side. But when he looked up at Russia again and noticed how hard he was being stared at, he hurriedly stuttered again, “a-actually, yes. Yeah, I do, or I have suspicions at least.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>--------------- ------ ----- ----  ---  ---    --     -      -      -             -                      -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now standing in front of China’s door, Russia was quietly thinking about his conversation with Japan and clutching a cheap bouquet of flowers inside one of his long sleeves. He paced on the front steps, wondering if he should knock on the door or see how long it would take for China to eventually notice him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Japan had mentioned secrets he hadn’t mentioned anything specific, the same had been true with China. If the two of them both were referring to the same event then a fast path to his answer would be to torture it out of one of them, presumably Japan. Yet Russia didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> have the energy for that, plus, it would make their relationship even more strained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Russian didn’t really understand all of this relationship stuff, but that didn’t exactly matter. He had to think of a solid excuse to be here yet again, both to China and his own government. The latter of whom would definitely have started to wonder why he had taken a regular passenger plane to Beijing twice in the last month. And as for China… well… their real friendship had ended a long time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia usually stayed in his home country, so all of this traveling was out of character in the first place, and none of the other personifications seemed to really trust him anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ебать это,” he muttered eventually, raising a leather-gloved hand to knock on his ally’s door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knocked twice, but quite sharply, so he expected China would hear it and respond quickly. Under normal circumstances he would have preferred breaking and entering but today he was trying to seem normal to get closer to China. (He personally saw nothing wrong with the first choice but China had seemed to mind on the multiple occasions that Russia had shown up inside his house uninvited.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Birds chirped in the nearby trees and he pressed his right hand to his hip in impatience, hoping that none of China’s neighbors saw him and got the wrong idea about why he was waiting on his doorstep, looking visibly nervous, and holding flowers. It would have been peaceful here if not for how out of place he felt, solidly and one-hundred percent Russian in a nation that, until recently, he had been partially against.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing at the sky, Russia tapped one of his feet. It had been a moment or so, perhaps China had not heard him..? Again knocking on the door he fiddled with the neck area of his scarf, fidgeting and wondering if he should have brought alcohol instead of flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few more clouds passed over his head before he started to think about knocking a third time. However, as he started to raise his arm again he heard near-running footsteps from inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“等待, 我來了!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia didn’t know what that meant but he lowered his hand again, recognizing China’s high pitched voice as well as the language. He fumbled with the flowers in his hands, hiding them behind his back as if he were holding a weapon instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, the door on the inside opened (Russia had to assume that it was there to keep bugs out since the front one had open holes in it). After that the one in from quickly followed, “請不要在這裡為了-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China looked up, blinking twice before a look of recognition came over his face. He still stared at the Russian for a moment, eyes wide in shock and perhaps fear, though that might have just been Russia’s interpretation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh gods it’s you…” he groaned in annoyance, scrunching up his eyebrows and nose in a scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Yao Yao,” Russia happily chirped, “I have no idea what you just said!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could get any more out, China had shut the door in his face. Russia swallowed, staring at China through the carvings, “Are you mad?” He asked tentatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away.” China muttered, turning away from the door, “I don’t want you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like you are mad...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“操你!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he didn’t know what the insult meant, Russia still grit his teeth in annoyance, which his ally noticed, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are not mad at me Ivan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia snorted, “hardly so, I came here to apologize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologize?” China turned towards Russia and glared at him through the carved door, “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, Russia taped his foot,“For breaking and entering? If that is what it is called, and if it is the reason you won’t answer my questions,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh ho!” China laughed bitterly, stepping away from the door and putting his hands on his hips, long sleeves rolling down his arms as he moved, “Well if this is about my refusal to comply with your wishes by telling the answers to your questions then you are out of luck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening his mouth before closing it again, Russia frowned in confusion, “That is partially the reason, but not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not answering your questions.” China growled at him, “Go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Russia exclaimed indignantly, annoyed by China’s persistence, “I want to apologize!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then,” China sneered, “apologize and go away, I bet your boss is missing you,” Russia had only just muttered ‘barely’ under his breath before the smaller Asian nation continued, “Plus, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you hiding behind your back? Please don’t blow up my house, I won’t appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia sputtered, “Blow up your house?” taking the bouquet out from behind his back, his face flushed, “these are flowers!” he exasperatedly exclaimed, waving them in China’s face to prove his point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One awkward moment of silence later with China just barely being able to stutter ‘o-oh.’ and a quick apology in Mandarin Russia shook his head, putting the flowers back down by his side, still noticeably blushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you let me in? I want to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China goaned, rolling his head back and angrily squinting at the ceiling, arms going slack by his sides, “Look Ivan, It’s very nice of you to get me flowers and all but last time you wanted to talk to me I kicked you out of my house.” He kicked one foot into the floor as he closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning again, Russia held up a hand, signing for China to stop talking despite the fact that he wasn’t even looking at him, “Please? At least make me food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loudly snorting and reopening his eyes, China turned back to face the Russian, looking mildly amused, “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please let me in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another long silence followed Russia’s request, the birds chirping loudly in the trees as if laughing at the pair of personifications arguing through the old door. China stared into Russia’s violet eyes, his own dark ones squinting in an apparent character assessment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally sighed in annoyance and swung open the carved door, aware that Russia was not going to back down, he spoke up again, “For the sake of politeness I will, but only for a small amount of time, and only if you get me a cute stuffed animal and don’t stab me or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked through the now open door Russia smiled, handing the flowers to his ally, “I might have to question your priorities Yao, as one should usually prefer not getting stabbed over a stuffed animal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China scrunched up his face in a bitter grimace, “Shut up, I’ll tell you which one I want after you have said what you want to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t confused about...” Russia’s experestion turned to confusion, “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But China didn’t answer and instead beckoned Russia with a jerking motion, padding into the kitchen. Russia quickened his steps and hurried to follow him, watching as the smaller man walked over to a counter and placed the flowers on it carefully. Glancing over his shoulder and making eye contact with the other nation, he rolled his eyes in disgust and shifted his weight to his other foot, reaching for the teapot that sat on the counter. Next he hurriedly filled the teapot with water and put it on the stove, turning the dial that corresponded with the placement of the pot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that moment Russia almost felt compelled to crack a joke about how he liked food better than hot water before he stopped himself, wondering where the urge even came from. He was here to find out secrets while pretending to be a friend, not actually be a friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Russia was still confused by the sudden extroverted urge he had gotten the smaller personification turned and walked past him, barely acknowledging him as he swept by. Snapping back into reality, Russia followed China in a mild trance to the dining room. Here, the Chinese personification kneeled at one end of the table, sitting down on his heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia stared at him for a moment before China broke him out of his thoughts, “Well? Sit down,” He tilted his head, gesturing to the other end of the table, “I would say I hope you want tea because I just put it on the stove but I would gladly drink it all myself...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia nodded awkwardly, plopping down on the floor across from the East Asian country, smiling tentatively at him as he secretly thought of what to say. He had to be clever about this, or his answer would never come.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter Twelve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I pulled an all-nighter to write this bone apple teeth enjoy your meal.<br/>*This whole chapter takes place from England’s perspective slightly back in timeline (so near the end of chapter three), I wanted to switch it up a bit in case the main characters were getting annoying.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Twelve</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>England watched China run down the hallway and gritted his teeth, furrowing his brow. He felt something in his throat twist. He immediately labeled it as annoyance but deep down he knew that he still felt something else beyond that. Pity…? Or </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorrow</span>
  <em>
    <span> maybe? England knew how it felt to have family, or at least people he saw as important to him, that didn’t love him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Most of his former colonies were like this so he was aware of how China felt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It felt bad, knowing about the same pain that his enemy did, especially when he had to hide it as well. He had to hide it because it was a weakness, loss and pain were weaknesses and no nation had any business showing either. Family and perceived family were both hard to let go of.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The people they had all lost overtime, human or nation-like, were similar to scars in their lives but they had to get over all of these cuts eventually. When America had declared war on him England had felt more fear than anything else, even if he wasn’t scared of the incoming war or of the possibility of loss, (though he did not think he would lose at the time). He felt fear instead of anger because he was scared of losing him. It was the same with most of his other colonies and he assumed China had similar experiences.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pain was incredibly hard to get over, family left scars, and emotional bonds did more harm than good. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘This is ridiculous…” England internally snorted to himself, what other semi-poetic lines would he think of next? He wasn’t a bard, this wasn’t his business.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pathetic,” he muttered aloud before turning on his heel and walking away from the hall and back towards the other nations.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His dress shoes clicked down the hallway as he carefully raised his chin again, returning to his resting snobbish expression and brushing out a few wrinkles in his suit, flicking a piece of lint off the shoulder in the process. He gently combed his eyebrows back into place before rolling his shoulders backwards, hearing his bones loudly crack. Finally, he placed his arms behind his back in a poised but not too stiff fashion, straightening up and standing ever so slightly taller.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Breathing in once through his nose, he entered the meeting room.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Meeting Japan’s eyes as the rest of the personifications looked up at him, some cutting off from their hushed conversations to stare, imploring him to give them information, he frowned.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Starting down his nose with partially shut eyelids he glared at them all, “What are you lot staring at? There is nothing I have to tell you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>America groaned loudly and Taiwan frowned, eyebrows knitting together as she visibly bit the inside of her cheek. At first it seemed that everyone else was also annoyed, so England was internally thankful when Japan nodded softly, returning England’s eye-contact with a blank stare and a matching frown.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>England closed his eyes briefly, bowing his head in Japan’s direction, the simple motion conveying a small message. Swiftly, the British man swept past the others and sat down in his chair once again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Taking the European nation’s place as the center of attention, Japan calmly looked down at his watch, looking serene compared to America who was staring daggers at Russia. Japan looked at the faces of the nations around him and smiled slightly, closing his eyes and scrunching up his brow, “It seems that we have run out of time for today, everyone can go to their hotels, if you need directions please ask me. Are there any questions about the current tax rates?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When no one spoke up Japan nodded, “any questions on the other topics we discussed?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Again, no one answered, though Germany shook his head and sighed to himself. Hearing this response Japan smiled, “Wonderful, this meeting is over, remember that tomorrow we meet in my capital building. From there I will direct you, thank you all for coming!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For a short moment no one moved or spoke, which was semi-surprising considering how America and many other chaotic nations were in the room.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But finally, breaking the silence, South Korea stretched his arms above his head, yawning loudly, “Well I’m beat.” pausing, he leaned his head backwards, looking over the back of his chair, “hey, Hong Kong!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hong Kong blinked once, as if dragged out of a train of thought,“Huh? What is it dude?” the small country tilted his head to the right, turning to his friend in confusion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m gonna go grab dinner, wanna come?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A smile spreading across his face, Hong Kong started to stand, “Uh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>yeah</span>
  <em>
    <span>, obviously!” he pushed his chair backwards and walked over to the Korean man, finally turning to a third country, “Taiwan you wanna go?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh-!” At first she sounded surprised to be addressed directly, but then smiled as well and violently pushed back her chair, apologizing to Japan awkwardly before continuing her sentence, “O-of course! Let's go!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They briefly stopped next to Japan, South Korea ginned in a half-teasing way, “Too bad we don’t get along, huh Kiku?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Japan frowned at this but didn’t seem surprised when South Korea began to laugh, reaching out and ruffling the shorter man’s black hair, “I was just kidding! 안녕히 주무세요!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Japan groaned, earning another laugh from the taller Asian nation as he passed by, “It’s not night time yet </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yong Soo</span>
  <em>
    <span>...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Taking her turn, Taiwan bowed to Japan and smiled once she stood, “It’s nice to see you, to apologize for his actions.” she shot South Korea a teasing glance here, “I can take you to dinner tomorrow...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Japan blushed slightly at the offer, “Thank you Taiwan, but it depends how busy I am…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course!” She giggled, waving her hand dismissively, “再见!” one smile later she skipped out the door after the others, leaving Japan slightly pink in the face. Next in line, Hong Kong only bowed his head briefly to acknowledge Japan before moving on, his hands buried in the pockets of his black suit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly but surely, many of the remaining nations followed the three Asian countries and filtered out the door, muttering their goodbyes to the host. With only five personifications (not counting China) still left in the house Italy decided to stay behind for a few minutes to chat with his friend. Other than him America sat in one corner, staring off into the distance with a slight frown on his face. On the other side of the room, Russia stood silently squinting at the back of America’s jacket and crossing his arms.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>England waited for Italy to finish talking with Japan, watching as he kissed his friend on both cheeks, eyes softening as he looked him up and down, no doubt thinking about how glad he was that they still got along well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bye Japan,” Italy smiled, “I have to go to the hotel, I’m sharing with Germany but he doesn’t know yet, I am hoping it will go over well…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Japan’s brow furrowed as he bit his lip, slightly confused, “W-well, I wish you the best of luck in telling him, and please let him know that I’ll be happy to have you both over for lunch before tomorrow's meeting!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you very much,” Italy laughed, “Ciao Kiku!” and with that he turned and joged to the entryway, waving one last goodbye to Japan before opening the door and slipping through it, closing it behind himself loudly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“さようなら Veneciano!” Japan called after the man, holding his arm out in a hopeful gesture for a few seconds before dropping it, trailing off, and falling silent again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Russia walked to the door of the room choppily and England stood. Walking to Japan, he tilted his head to the side and sighed, “Hello again Kiku…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Japan turned to him, bowing and sighing as well, sounding very tired all of a sudden, “またあったね Arthur.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keeping his eye on Russia, England leaned in closer to Japan and began to explain the happenings of a few minutes before. Japan nodded as he listened, blinking every so often and scanning the room absentmindedly with his eyes. England described what happened cautiously but was careful to avoid the fact that he kind of knew what China felt like, though wasn’t going to mention </span>
  </em>
  <span>why</span>
  <em>
    <span> besides his former colonies.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once the British man was finished with his explanation Japan stood up straighter, “Thank you, this is very appreciated, if you want you can stay a bit longer…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aah- ah ha, no thank you,” England forced an awkward laugh, “I have to get back to my hotel and all, though it was nice seeing you again!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Japan sighed before smiling sadly up at him, “of course, well, goodbye England!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you, and goodbye as well~!” the British man clenched his teeth into a forced smile before turning away and biting his lip, furrowing his brow as he felt his heart start to beat faster. The chanced disturbed him so he quickened his steeping in order to speed up his walk to the door and slip out of it, careful not to shut it on the back of his suit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once on the sidewalk he brushed his suit off again, hands shaking uncomfortably. He growled bitterly at this, wiping his sweaty palms on the sides of his trousers and gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He felt something inside him twist, and he did not like it. No part of this situation had felt right, internally he felt sick and hollow and terrified all at the same time. His blood felt cold in his veins just trying to put into words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>China must have felt pretty awful about the nations he had raised, and England knew what that felt like. He too had raised, or partially raised, many countries who ended up hating him in the end. Wrapping his arms around his middle section he tried to create some sort of confirmation for himself that it was okay to feel this way about things that were out of his control.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After all, letting go was the hardest part, after that it was semi-smooth sailing. Of course with the colonies he still got to see them again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unfortunately, the colonies weren't the full extent of his current fearful emotions. Oh it was so much more than that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Loss was certainly a painful concept.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter Thirteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N hhh my brain hurts. Reviews/comments would be nice but of course you don’t have to, I just wanna know what everyone's thinking, Wattpad or Fanfiction.net, you are all great.<br/>So far I have up to chapter 95 planned out, but I haven’t updated in a bit because of some nasty real life stuff. However, I’ll keep updating as I am working on an actual schedule, any recommendations as to when?<br/>This chapter is a bit longer than normal I guess? A/N over.</p><p>*These are reposted from Wattpad, so keep in mind that they are old notes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Thirteen</b>
</p><p>“China,” Russia finally spoke up, briefly pausing to take a sip of the tea that his companion had just placed in front of him, “I’m very sorry if I…” he internally made a face, tea had never been his favorite. Noticing the awkward pause and wondering what he could do with it, the Russian man stopped as if forgetting what to say, turning his head downward and staring at the floorboards near his feet.</p><p>He tried again after a beat, “I’m sorry if I…” again he trailed off, sneaking a peek at the other nation who was staring intently at him, as if waiting for a sincere and real apology.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Russia hurriedly managed, bowing his head in a respectful manner, “I don’t know how else to put it.”</p><p>China bitterly spun his cup of tea between his hands, a sour expression on his face. He grunted in acknowledgement and Russia sighed, frowning worriedly towards the smaller man, “you are acting strange Yao…”</p><p>When China looked up at him with a frown pasted on his face, Russia continued quickly, “I mean, you are acting strange for you.”</p><p>Sighing, the Asian man adjusted his sitting position, cracking his neck in either direction before responding, “I can’t tell if that is an insult or not aru.”</p><p>Russia smirked to himself, “Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not.”</p><p>Quietly snorting in amusement, the smaller country smiled before catching himself and sitting up straighter again, yet again tightening his mouth into a stiff line, “Sorry.” He muttered, sounding partially embarrassed.</p><p>“ ‘Sorry’ ?” Russia asked, mystified by this new take on the expression of emotion. He saw laughter as a tool as well as a declaration of amusement, but most definitely not something to apologize for.</p><p>When no response came, or even any sign that the other personification had heard him, Russia’s mouth twisted into a bemused smile, “I’m not sure why you are sorry, it has been a while since I’ve seen you laugh,”</p><p>China tilted his head to the right, still looking down at the cup that he held between his hands. Russia’s smile broadened as he continued in his statement, “...though the reason for my missing out might be only because of who I am.”</p><p>At this, the older man smiled and lifted his hand to his mouth, trying to hide his amusement from his ally. His shoulders shook gently as he scrunched his eyes shut, his expression only visible through a crack between his fingers.</p><p>“Look, see?” Russia exclaimed, gesturing over to his ally, “You are doing it again!” China turned away further but Russia tilted his upper body, laughing himself at the ridiculousness of the situation, “I can still see you, you aren’t hiding anything!”</p><p>China exhaled in one loud puff, trying and failing to turn it into a cough as Russia continued on about his pathetic excuse at a poker face.</p><p>“You really aren’t good at staying serious all the time are you?” Russia stated, an amused and astonished grin stretching across his face, “In all honesty this is kind of sad to watch!”</p><p>Unable to contain it any longer China tilted his head back, letting out a high pitched cackle and giving in to his sense of humor. Watching him laugh, Russia also chuckled, which China, of course, found hilarious in his current hysterical state.</p><p>“Wow,” Russia grinned, resting his chin on his hand, “this is pathetic!”</p><p>“<em> H e c k </em> you Ivan~!” China choked, sounding much like Hong Kong is his speech, trying to breath through his giggling, “该死的!” he exclaimed, whipping around to face the man opposite him, “This isn’t even funny aru!”</p><p>“I know.” Russia smiled sweetly, “I made the joke.”</p><p>“They aren’t even jokes though…” at first China tried to frown, but seeing Russia’s expression in reaction to it, his pouty expression morphing into a childish smile again. Russia followed suit only seconds later.</p><p>It took the two personifications about fifteen minutes to get out of the spontaneous giggle-fit and calm down. (Most of this time consisted of Russia trying to politely drink the tea that he hated and China pacing around the kitchen in the background muttering <em> ‘I’m professional,’ </em> over and over again, at which point they would make eye contact and the whole thing would start all over.)</p><p>“Oh good Tsar that took a long time,” Russia groaned, leaning backwards in exhaustion.</p><p>“You can say that again aru,” China sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheeks with his palms, “<em> 他妈的地狱, </em> I didn’t know I could laugh that much at such a stupid statement...”</p><p>“Ah it’s okay, I did not know I was capable of such mirth either,” Russia sighed before cutting himself off, awkwardly frowning when he saw the near-concerned expression on China’s face “What?”</p><p>“ ‘such mirth’? What are you, English aru?” China frowned in confusion.</p><p>“I learned English English first,” Russia explained quickly, sounding embarrassed, “Why?”</p><p>“As did I,” China smirked, placing his cheek in his hand, “But you sounded very not-Russian there aru.”</p><p>“Oh,” Russia smiled, “I suppose that makes it a cause of worry.”</p><p>“Yes,” China frowned, “but is there anything you wanted to tell me when you…”</p><p>Russia finished his sentence, “...showed up on your doorstep with flowers even though we are not together?”</p><p>“Yes.” the Asian personification nodded, “exactly that.”</p><p>“O-oh…” Russia trailed off, “well, I kind of did,”</p><p>China raised an eyebrow, sipping his tea, “and what is that? Can you not tell me or are you forgetting what it was?”</p><p>“Neither of those things,” the white haired man sighed, “I was just wondering about the ‘secret’..?”</p><p>Half-growling into his drink, China’s eyelids slowly shut over his eyes in a look of sheer annoyance. Russia gritted his teeth, preparing to be kicked out as he internally screamed at the forwardness of the statement.</p><p><em> “Really?” </em> His mind yelled at him <em> , “you were doing so well and your social skills just had to go and ruin it!” </em>Admittedly it was not what he had had in mind for asking the question again, in fact it was quite the opposite of what he had planned.</p><p>Before China could even tell him to leave Russia started to stand. “Sorry,” he apologized, trying his best to look realistically regretful, “I should not have asked that.”</p><p>The tone of their meeting had turned serious very suddenly and it was clear by the looks on both of their faces that they were uncomfortable with the tension. China was just annoyed at the question and how it was all Russia seemed to see him as, though Russia did seem to be genuine in his apology. Little did he know that Russia was really worried about if he would have to rebuild the trust that had started to form.</p><p>“Прощай…” Russia muttered, barely remembering to make a messy bow before turning. Trust was a huge part of this, a few days of waiting would be nothing in comparison to the potential months that distrust would take them though. He walked to the entryway, realizing that this was an over-estimation of how much China’s anger would flare. Yet he did not care.</p><p>Just as he was reaching towards the door handle, however, China spoke up from behind him.</p><p>“Ivan,” He sounded annoyed, but more so at the country’s sudden departure than the question, “Why in the world are you leaving aru?”</p><p>Russia turned around slowly, savoring the sound of the floorboards that creaked under his feet. Not wanting to blow his cover of the real reason he had come to his ally’s house, the Russian man tried his hardest to look confused, “W-what? Why?” he tilted his head, looking concerned.</p><p>Looking frustrated now, China responded, “You don’t just walk away from someone in the <em> middle of a conversation </em> when you are the reason for it’s pause,”</p><p>Narrowing his eyes as his frown deepened, China continued, “<em> especially </em> if you started the conversation <em> as well </em> aru.”</p><p>When Russia only awkwardly stood in the space between the dining area and entryway China rolled his eyes. Speaking again to the man who was towering over him he gestured to the seat across the table and bowed his head, “sit down… now.”</p><p>Only then did Russia slowly edge his way back to his seat.</p><p>Now sitting again, and much closer in height to the other personification than before, the larger man felt obliged to speak, but even as he started, China interrupted him. Forcing himself to listen, Russia closed his mouth and moistened his upper lip as China began, preparing for the worst.</p><p>But when he spoke, instead of words of anger, China (if still frustrated) sounded pleased with his power in the situation, “I’m not going to kick you out for asking one question aru, you didn’t break into my house this time, think of that as a point on your record aru,”</p><p>Russia awkwardly nodded, the nation was correct, jumping to conclusions wasn’t exactly the first thing he should have done. Plus, he now was aware that waiting for people to open their doors instead of climbing in through their window was a positive in China’s books, who knew?</p><p>“You know,” China was saying, “when I was still raising my siblings they also jumped to many conclusions, similar to you aru,”</p><p>“Did they?” Russia stuttered, anxious not to mess up as badly as he had only a few minutes before.</p><p>“Yes aru,” China mussed, “though it was more often for things to do with food and murder rather than fear and anger,”</p><p>Nodding, Russia acknowledged this statement. For as long as he could remember Ukraine had tried her hardest to keep him and Belerus safe from harm. Clearly she hadn’t done too well in many patches of history and because of that kindness she had gone through a lot of pain in recent wars. Much of this was his own or his government’s fault, but Russia refused to see this fact.</p><p>It made him wonder why she bothered, since her siblings had only hurt her or at least faced up against her in thanks to her hard work in their early lives. In fact, it made him wonder why China bothered with his own ‘siblings’. Especially considering how China was not even related to the rest of the East Asian countries (unlike Russia and his sisters) it was strange to see so much pain and effort put into keeping them alive. At least Taiwan still saw him in positive terms when they didn’t have to think about political powers. The rest of them however…</p><p>There was definitely some mutual hatred in a few places, yet he still wanted to care for them if they were in need. He always made sure that they were safe and still checked in on them when they hated him.</p><p>“They are sort of like your children!” Russia blurted out suddenly, drowning out whatever China had been saying.</p><p>Said nation stuttered, his words dying in his throat, “W-what?”</p><p>In response to his confusion, Russia began listing the East Asian’s off to him, counting each on his fingers to make sure that all had been named, “Japan, Korea, Hong Kong, Taiwan…”</p><p>But he trailed off after seeing China’s expression, he looked uncomfortable. Biteraly uncomfortable.</p><p>“...Yao?” Realizing that he had said the wrong thing again he lowered his shoulders, “What is it now?”</p><p>For a moment his face stayed frozen in that pained, choked expression. Russia stared at him, he didn’t look scared or annoyed. Just pained, as if Russia had twisted his arm too far backwards instead of accidentally yelling out one innocent statement.</p><p>But suddenly, that frozen moment passed and China looked normal again, as if he was trying his darndest not to smile, “No idiot, they are my siblings~!”</p><p>Noting the incredibly strange reaction, Russia decided to play along with this story, “Even though they aren’t related to you?” Carefully adding a fake laugh just to make it more realistic he quickly added, “Does that make you siblings?”</p><p>“Well it takes us even farther away from being a parent and child aru,” China said, his voice small.</p><p>Bringing that up unnecessarily was strange, so Russia kept playing along. Careful not to accidentally hit another trigger, he added, “But how does it work to be siblings like that?”</p><p>China contemplated this for a moment and as he did Russia patiently waited, trying his hardest to remember China’s exact wording. </p><p>“I see us as siblings, but I don’t think the rest of them do aru,” China mused, “It probably makes it easier to hurt me if we don’t seem related. I guess the same thing would go for kids though so I’m not really proving my point am I?” He smiled awkwardly, seeming to not notice how Russia had not mentioned children in his previous question.</p><p>That made two times that China had brought it up. Russia smiled and faked a laugh, as if amused by his ally’s statement. Yet in his head he made the quick decision to keep track of how many times the shorter man brought it up, so they kept talking.</p><p>...by the end of the night his count was up to six.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N so yeah… that was a bit bad, so sorry!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter Fourteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N Hello everyone! I’m hoping not to make these start of chapter author’s notes a regular thing but I needed to explain why I hadn’t written after saying I was getting a schedule. (I actually had to go to a funeral and didn’t get to write anything during my time there, so…)<br/>So all of this was written basically on the four/five hour car ride home and edited the morning after. Then I hated it and re-wrote the end. I’m so sorry it took so long!<br/>Alright, that's it, thank you very much! A/N over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <b>Chapter Fourteen</b>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretending that he had to catch a phone call from his government, Russia had escaped the kitchen and left to stand in the hallway outside of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his position in the hallway he could hear the wind in the branches of the trees that dotted the neighborhood and the soft clinking of dishware from the other room. Both were calming sounds, definitely comforting in it’s differences from the whistling snow and ice that plagued his own home. Yet in it’s own way he felt a different type of loneliness in the air, it was definitely not as bad as what he felt in his own home (though this could have been a personal preference of distraction from a new place).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling himself back to the present, Russia reached into his coat pocket, searching for his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a major surprise to the other nations judging by how far behind he always seemed when he had been caught checking the date on the Nokia. America especially had seemed shocked, or maybe even insulted, by his ownership of the object. Amusing as the day might have been it was certainly an unpleasant insight to everyone's view of him. At the time he hadn’t mentioned that he had only recently bought it and didn’t fully know how it worked, but that certainly didn’t need to be announced publicly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even China had teased him at that time, unaware that it had actually stung seeing as they were right out of the Cold War and all and neither of them had access to modern technologies only a few years before. It did make Russia feel slightly better when they were walking to their separate hotels and China confessed to him that he didn’t have one yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile playing on his lips, Russia quickly taped Japan’s home number into the small device, hoping with all his cold heart that the Asian nation was awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rang a few times before he heard the click of the device being picked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“本田菊, これは誰ですか?” Japan’s cracked voice played into his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah Japan,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the white haired personification purred in Russian, trying his hardest to make it sound as if he was talking to a government, hoping that China didn’t remember enough to understand what he was saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“何?” Japan sounded confused. Along with this Russia was mildly aware of a brushing noise, as if he were sitting up. Had he woken him up anyway? And more importantly, was it night in Tokyo or was he taking a midday nap?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s Russia, this is my mobile phone</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Russia said, trying to make his words clear even through the language barrier. He knew Japan spoke some Russian but he hadn’t made it clear if he was conversational yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-ah,” Japan stuttered, this time in English, “Hi Russia,” he paused before tentatively continuing, as if worried, “...what do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m-”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Russia started, only to be cut off by the nation on the other side of the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we talk in Japanese…?” Japan started, following it with “Or English-!” when Russia gave an unimpressed snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>can’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> right now,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Russia explained, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m in China</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sounding a mix of shocked and worried, Japan yelped, “Wha-?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cutting him off and gritting his teeth into a smile, Russia hissed furiously, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not like </span>
  </em>
  <span>that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you fucking pervert!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both were quiet, Russia tapping his foot and grumbling, annoyed by the other personification’s ignorance to the situation. Japan himself coughed once before he stuttered into speech again, “Sorry,” he choked out before another shuffling sound was heard, maybe him standing up, “Why are you calling me again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia leaned his back against the wall, crossing his free arm across his stomach, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I wish to discuss some things with you…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what type of things?” Japan immediately rushed, sounding suddenly distrustful of his half-ally.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“China clearly,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Russia purred gleefully, his voice free of annoyance with the new proof of the Japanese man’s utter obliviousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he surprised him, becoming completely serious Japan almost seemed to straighten up, “What happened? What can I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking at the change in personality, Russia started to speak, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I have a theory…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan waited, and hearing his intense focus Russia’s smirk widened, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he started. But suddenly China spoke up from the other room, worry twisted into his heavily accented voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your government treating you badly aru?” He called sounding distinctly unsure, “do you need help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hold on,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Russia whispered into his phone before putting it down and turning his head and changing the tone of his voice to sound less focused, “Ah, no Yao, it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure aru…?” China stuttered, sounding worried despite Russia’s clear reassurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, it’s fine Yao,” He called back every so slightly shakily, “I’ll leave if you want me to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhm,” the older personification mumbled before raising his voice again, “S-sure, because you have to go back home soon enough anyway aru…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re at his house?!” Japan’s shocked voice sounded through the Nokia in Russia’s hand. Having almost forgotten he was still on the other side of the phone the taller nation jumped and quickly brought it closer to his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhhh!!!” he hissed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Give me a moment!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping the phone to his side again, Russia peaked around the corner, not noticing how intensely he was staring into China’s soul in the process. “I’ll do that then, just give me a few seconds…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright aru,” China sighed, “Bye I guess…?” His voice sounded hopeful, as if asking to talk again, though he would never admit it in words. His white haired companion smirked behind the cover of the wall that separated them. Maybe he was getting somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China went silent with a last shaky breath and Russia swallowed, suddenly feeling almost bad for cutting off their conversation. Plus, he wasn’t sure why his ally seemed so distressed in the first place and that in itself was a reason to worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll call you back,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Russia spat out into the receiving end of the phone, sounding much more hostile than he had meant to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-” Japan started, but he was cut off as Russia ended the call, dropping the phone back into his pocket with an almost cracking noise due to the quickly moving fabric of his sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked back into the main room, awkwardly smiling across the room at China who nodded in acknowledgement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he sighed, scratching the back of his head with on leather gloved hand, “So sorry about that call, but my boss wants me back,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no, it’s okay aru,” China shook his head as if clearing his mind, face lightening after he had finished, a small yet sad smile on his lips, “I get it, plus, you still have to sort out some stuff after the war?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it,” Russia sighed. It was really tiring work, setting up an entirely new government.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both stared at each other in silence, a sort of weakness in the air where their words had been. Russia took in a shaky breath, knowing that he had to leave, “Okay, I’ll… be going.” There was a clipped edge to the words, almost sounding mad, though that wasn’t at all the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China puffed up one cheek with air, turning his head to the side, a blush only barely visible, “Yeah,” he muttered quietly, “bye Ivan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Russian man’s long strides took him to the door quick enough, leaving his ally to marinate in his loneliness again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--------------- ------ ----- ----  ---  ---    --     -      -      -             -                      -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having hailed a taxi to take him back to the entrance of the airport Russia searched for the floor he was supposed to be on. (It was a ridiculously long way away considering that he didn’t know the layout of the airport very well.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hummed to himself, knowing that he had to call Japan back. Though whatever he would reveal to the smaller personification would depend on his confidence in the information. He hadn’t particularly learned much, just a bit of mostly useless information and a theory. Considering why he had started this project (for personal amusement) a theory was a bit pathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Russian smirked to himself, listening to the dialing tone after typing in the phone number. He had most of the nation's numbers memorized, all except for the few who didn’t own hand-held phones of course, in which case he knew their home phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“本田菊-” Japan started, only to be cut off by an ever impatient Russia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” the taller country purred, now in English rather than Russian, “so </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> it took so long…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s alright,” Japan sighed in response, though he sounded a bit cross at the way his introduction had been cut off, “what do you want to tel-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s gotta be quick because my flight leaves soon,” Russia provided, hearing Japan muffle a groan on the other end, clearly irritated by how much he was getting cut off in the middle of his sentences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I aske-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh sorry,” Russia stifled a short chortel, “what did you ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you stopped </span>
  <em>
    <span>interrupting</span>
  </em>
  <span> me I would be able to get the point across!” Japan snapped, his normally calm and respectable nature breaking way for his annoyance at his Russian counterpart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmn,” Russia contemplated this before breaking free of his joking interruptions and becoming serious once again, “Sure, that sounds alright,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Japan sighed, his voice, and presumably posture judging by the sound of shifting fabric, relaxing. Russia nodded, shifting his eyes around the airport to check that no one official looking was around. This had to be kept private, even if it was almost nothing to go off of by itself. After all, who knew how much the government knew?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a nation it was a common courtesy to keep private things away from their bosses. If that meant lying when people asked questions or straight up avoiding talking to humans whose jobs or social positions weren’t clear then that was okay. It didn’t matter who they avoided, their personal lives were about the only things they got to keep from their bosses and even that was often given away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” Japan sounded so patient that Russia almost didn’t notice how he had been stalling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” he coughed, “Yeah. Well, it’s just a theory…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Theories are important Ivan,” Japan said quietly. Russia grinned, he was right. Theories were important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has something to do with kids?” He phrased it like a question, semi-curious if Japan was hiding anything that he would let go of. There was a beat of silence and Russia raised his eyebrows, “Kiku…?” he started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah,” Japan stuttered, but it didn’t seem like a confirmation to the Russian’s second question. It almost sounded like it was a response to the first sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ ‘Yeah’?” Russia repeated, “to what? Do you agree with my theory? Or…” his eyes narrowed, “are you withholding information?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No-!” Japan yelped, “いいえ、違います! I’m not withholding information Russia, but I... um...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what?” Russia purred, his voice low and soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree,” Japan started with an air of finalization, “I could be that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Russia smiled behind the phone, “then that is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-” Japan started, “Hey wait no! That can’t be it, didn’t you figure out anything else…?” Sneering at his sudden interest in the topic now that they had a start, Russia laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not really, did you expect more?” Ignoring Japan’s soft comment of ‘well kinda’ he continued, “is there anything else you have to say to me? My flight is boarding soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was, of course, a complete lie. The flight was boarding in a few hours. The truth was that Russia wanted some time to think about the day by himself, and not just for the point of finding out the secret, just for the sake of the day. He had kind of enjoyed himself, in fact-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought</span>
  <em>
    <span>, what am I talking about? This is only for my sake, I only enjoyed my time there because I was not lonely.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He repeated this in his head childishly, hoping to beat down any more strange ideas. Luckily, he did not have to for very long, Japan distracting him by speaking into the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you hear me?” his voice asked, sounding impatient now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Russia laughed awkwardly, “No, did you say something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I- ugg, never mind,” Japan groaned, “I was just asking you if we could continue this conversation at the next meeting, maybe tell Alfred-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell America?” Russia scowled, “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m friends with him I guess?” Japan sighed, “I was hoping that he could help. If you haven’t noticed, us two aren’t very good at communicating,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia growled, “What do you mean? I’ve told you everything I’ve thought of,” it didn’t feel like a lie, but he knew it probably was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well…” he sighed again, as if it were a way to puncture his speech where he wanted a better effect, “we don’t get along very well at best, I’m sure you have noticed that,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Russia said, “but why do you think I would get along with America so soon after…” he trailed off. Both of them knew what he was talking about. The Cold War, the collapse of the Soviet Union, America’s win. All of what had been going on for the past two years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Japan seemed to shake his head, “But I know I get along with him, besides, we can discuss it at the meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait-” Russia tried, only to be cut off once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said your plane was coming did you not?” Japan smirked, “if something new happens that we can’t tell Alfred then call me, I’m not going to say much to him beforehand, maybe pretend you wanted to apologize or something along those lines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologize?” Russia scoffed, “He will see right through that, what makes you think-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye Russia,” Japan said, “have a safe flight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait-!” Russia tried again, but was met with the disconnect tone once again, “Ugg!” he hissed, “stupid freaking…” as he plopped down in a seat the mumbling continued, though the insults were now in Russian so as to further confuse the people around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really did not want to tell the American. It sounded like a horrible plan and he wasn’t ready to ally himself with such an annoying, idiotic, and narssasistic nation so soon after a war, even if it was on a personal level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not ready to expose himself, or China, to such ignorance.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>First Ao3 exclusive note: So this was the first chapter that was posted on here the day it was written. This story has been on going for a few months and I decided to put it on here. I am hoping to get an actual schedule though I swear.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter Fifteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Fifteen</b>
</p><p>There were voices in the back room, which made sense. The American usually had his allies come early to chat before meetings. Yet…</p><p>“I thought you said-,” Russia fumbled over the words, “-would just be him here yet!” he hissed to the smaller country who stood beside him, ignoring the grammatical errors in his fury.</p><p>“Relax,” Japan sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, “you aren’t scared of him or anything, right?”</p><p>Russia scowled, “of course not!”</p><p>“Then you shouldn’t have any problems talking to him,” Japan retaliated, “come on, he isn’t that bad.” The black haired personification pushed the door open with his toe, causing Russia to jump back, trying to hide from the people who were already there. Muttering that it <em> was, </em> in fact, that bad between him and the American, and it had been that way for decades.</p><p>“Oh hello Kiku!” America grinned, standing up and nearly knocking over his cup of coffee, which Canada gracefully caught before it spilled (though this went mostly unnoticed), “We were waiting on you!”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” Japan smiled apologetically before turning back around to face Russia, who had pressed his back against the wall behind them, hiding the best he could. “Someone was slowing me up,” he added with a small smirk.</p><p>Alfred’s eyes widened when he saw the Russian, something close to fear visible for only a second. “I-Ivan!” he stuttered, “I didn’t- I didn’t know you were…” his voice faltered as he stared in confusion at Japan, “coming so soon...”</p><p>Russia smiled darkly behind his scarf, it felt better to know that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t exactly want this meeting, though it just made him more annoyed by Japan’s persistence. It was good if the small man had not told America why they were meeting, but not telling him that Russia was even coming was a bit far.</p><p>He swept into the room then, choosing a seat next to Canada, who made himself visible with a cough right in the nick of time.</p><p>Behind him, Russia could hear America softly complaining to Japan, something about ‘<em> the audacity of’ </em> and <em> ‘in this situation’ </em>. Such useless words. If Russia had wanted to show up early he would have anyway, no matter who had tried to keep him back. This time it so happened that Japan wanted him there, so at least the American had acknowledged that.</p><p>Breaking into his thoughts, Canada cleared his throat quietly, getting Russia’s attention only because of their close proximity. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he sounded tentative, “why <em> are </em> you here early?”</p><p>“That…” Russia paused, had Japan told them nothing? Or did Canada just want to make conversation?</p><p>“That doesn’t concern you,” he finally added, accent thick as he lowered his chin into the scarf that surrounded his throat, “and I won’t be telling you.”</p><p>Canada’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, his purple eyes narrowing in a barely noticeable way behind his wire rimmed glasses. He looked… angry?</p><p>“Is that so.” He hummed, folding his hands in his lap but not breaking eye contact. The two stared unwaveringly into each other's eyes for a few seconds until Russia sighed, realizing that it was pointless arguing with someone who would not care if he reacted badly.</p><p>“Kiku may tell you,” Russia said, turning his gaze and leaning back in his chair, crossing his coat-clad arms across his chest.</p><p>Canada’s demeanor immediately changed, his posture softening and his expression lifting noticeably. “That’s okay,” he smiled, “I’m sure he will... if they ever stop arguing,”</p><p>Russia raised an eyebrow, but Canada answered before he could even ask the question. “Alfred and Japan,” he provided, stating it as if it was obvious, which it of course was. “If we don’t start whatever we were going to soon Germany or someone is probably gonna walk in and start the meeting for us, you know?”</p><p>Russia nodded, pondering his words, though he declined the casual offer for a maple candy that came next. What an odd world this was. He was still heavily against both of the North American twins but here he was, talking to them about someone he actually cared about.</p><p>Wait. ‘Cared about’?</p><p><em> No no no </em> , he thought to himself, shaking his head and tapping his forehead with his palm, <em> you can’t be thinking that way. You can’t start to care about Yao </em> , <em> that’s- </em> Wait. ‘Yao <em> ’ </em>? Using human names when he wasn’t directly speaking to the personification?! God, whose side was he on?! His own or...</p><p>Japan’s voice cut his internal debate short. It seemed he had finally stopped the argument with America and was now seated next to England, who had apparently been sitting there silently through the whole argument. (Russia had failed to notice him when he had walked it, which was a bit embarrassing now that it was clear he was there.) “Hello everyone,” Japan greeted them, “I’m sorry for how late we were-”</p><p>“You weren’t late,” America cut in, “we don’t mind!”</p><p>Japan smiled awkwardly, “A-ah, yes, of course Alfred. Anyway-”</p><p>“What are you here to tell us?” America chirped, interrupting again and seemingly seeing nothing wrong with it. Japan swallowed, it was clear to everyone but the American that he had been just about to answer that question. “What?” the blond teen frowned, “is something wrong?”</p><p>“You bloody git,” England hissed, furiously turning towards the young country, “shut up and listen to him!”</p><p>America seemed like he was about to protest but Canada met his eyes and shook his head, effectively shutting him up. Japan smiled in an awkward gesture of thanks before turning back to the general room and addressing the three of them again.</p><p>“We are here to discuss some, uh,” he made eye contact with Russia, unsure how to continue. When Russia did not respond, though the three blond nations in the room all turned to stare at him, Japan stuttered into speech again, “<em> suspicions </em>, we have about a certain ally of Russia’s…”</p><p>Making sure that there was no more he was immediately going to say, Canada  spoke up tentatively, “wouldn’t it be rude to talk behind their back?” he politely inquired.</p><p>“Uh…” Japan tutted, “Yes and no, this is to help him,” he made eye contact with Russia, “Right?”</p><p>Put on the spot, Russia blushed, though he didn’t know why. Forcing a lie and scowling at them, he tried to beat down the blood that rushed to his face quickly, “Yes, it is for his sake,”</p><p>“May I ask who?” England sighed, “We don’t have all day,”</p><p>Japan nodded, “true,” he turned to Russia, “Ivan would you mind explaining? I don’t fully understand what is going on,”</p><p>No matter what amount of truth was in that statement, Russia growled, it had been Japan’s idea to talk to them today, and stating it in that order made it seem like it had been his own. However, he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it so he crossed his arms tighter.</p><p>“We have some ideas about what’s been happening to Yao,” </p><p>When no one immediately rescinded this idea his mind automatically went to the worst places. What if they got the wrong idea? That he was some sort of creepy stalker (which he kind of was) or if, even worse, he actually cared about the Asain country.<em> Again with the goddamn human names, </em> he thought, <em> of course people are going to think things like that when you use those! </em></p><p>But to his relief, England nodded, “I was wondering that too,” the Brit confided, “to be quite honest with you all I was curious,”</p><p>Curious. So maybe Russia could pretend that he was only curious as well?</p><p>‘<em> Pretend’ </em> ? The act that he was keeping up <em> was </em> that he cared, not that he was curious, he was pretending to care, not pretending to be curious! What in the world was going on?</p><p>“I was too,” Canada sighed, “but I was more worried than not, it’s hard seeing people suffer, even if I’m supposed to hate them…”</p><p>“Dude, that was such a Canadian to say,” America laughed, “‘hard to see people suffer’ my ass! Aren’t you the one who burned down The White House?”</p><p>It was clearly a joke but Canada immediately flushed bright red, “Alfred I’ve already apologized for that! I’m sorry!”</p><p>“It was me as well,” England argued, “but I’m not sorry for it,” ignoring the half amused sounds of protest that the American uttered, he turned to Russia. “Get on with it, explain what you think, I don’t want to be stuck talking to you for a long time,”</p><p>“Wow, straight to the point much?” Russia smirked before continuing, “We have some ideas about why he has been acting strange, I’ve been working on finding all of this out for myself,”</p><p>America rolled his eyes, a strange blush on his face as he made eye contact with the Russian, “Obviously, Kiku told us that much, we don’t need <em> you </em> to repeat that.”</p><p>Russia raised an eyebrow but Japan violently shook his head at him, urging the two not to fight, it would use up more valuable time that they didn’t really have. So the white haired personification chose to not engage, instead shaking his own head in disbelief, “Just listen Alfred, you do not need to interrupt,”</p><p>America’s lip twitched but he stayed quiet, England shooting him an angry look as if to say ‘<em> yeah Alfred, we don’t have time for your crap </em>’ in the most British accent he could muster. Canada, on the other hand, looked engaged in the conversation, his violet eyes still trained on Russia’s. Perhaps it was the bond of being a severely cold nation? Whatever the case, Russia did appreciate the Canadian’s politeness, as it was a very needed break from his twin brother’s chaotic personality.</p><p>“So,” Russia said, careful to not make a big deal out of it, since it wasn’t, “it probably has to do with kids, but I’m not sure how,”</p><p>“Ahhh... okay,” Canada sighed, sounding relieved, “That’s manageable! I was thinking it was going to be something bad, why do you think this?”</p><p>Russia frowned, unsure of what to say. He had proof, he knew what had happened. The thing was that he didn’t think the rest of them would understand it, or the sinking feeling he got. But after all, of course they wouldn’t, he had...</p><p>But the personification shook his head, clearing it. There was no way he was going to think about that now. No.</p><p>So instead of truthfully answering the polite teen, Russia made a quick excuse, “I don’t want to disclose this information, I don’t know if I can trust you all, pointedly America of course,”</p><p>Japan stiffened slightly, sending an angry glance in his direction.</p><p>But he had been expecting some sort of reaction from the American, not Japan. Yet when he glanced over at him it was as if the young nation hadn’t even heard Russia insulting his trustworthiness. He was concentrating on something, his head bent over slightly, causing the gleam of the light to reflect off and hide his eyes from view. That was most definitely not a regular American activity.</p><p>Following Russia’s confused gaze, England turned to his left, staring at the larger nation. “Mate,” he groaned, “stop doing that and get back into the conversation, he insulted you for Pete’s sake!”</p><p>Hearing this, America seemed to snap out of whatever haze he was in, a goofy grin spreading across his face as if it had never left. “He did?” the teen laughed, a threatening air to his voice, “why is that?”</p><p>England didn’t answer, leaving America looking confused, “What?” he started, but Canada cut him off, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Just listen to what Russia and Kiku have to say, and don’t go daydreaming again,”</p><p>It seemed as though he was about to protest for a second but he thought better of it and sat back in his chair, “Sure, but I think y'all,” he gestured to the three others, “should ask Arthur what he knows about children in this fashion, he seems to be <em> hiding </em>something,”</p><p>Everyone turned to England, who raised his hands in defense, “I have no idea what he is talking about, and I’m not hiding any information purposefully, but,” he turned and made a face at the American, who was smirking evilly, “if he could <em> tell me </em> what I seem to be hiding that would be highly appreciated.”</p><p>“It has to do with… magic? Or something?” America said, all signs of aggression fading from his face. When England only looked more confused he shrugged, “You mentioned it a few years ago, end of World War II, right?”</p><p>When nothing seemed to connect in his eyes, America shook his head, “Maybe it wasn't magic? To be fair you weren’t very clear, it was from your pirate days I believe?”</p><p>Finally recognition seemed to hit the opposite nation’s green eyes, “Ah! Yes, I could tell them about that,” the Englishman looked embarrassed, probably due to being so clueless to something he himself had told the younger blond. Biting his lip, the slight blush on his cheeks making his awkward expression ever more prevalent.</p><p>Japan smiled lightly, “It’s alright, what is it that you have told him?”</p><p>England nodded, muttering a ‘thank you Kiku’ under his breath before looking up again. “Obviously this is a worst-case-scenario correct?”</p><p>“Correct,” Japan acknowledged.</p><p>“Right,” England furrowed his brow, pulling his bushy eyebrows close, “there are many possible outcomes from something as wide as ‘kids’ with absolutely no context,”</p><p>Russia felt a hint of hostility in the statement but he chose to ignore it, pulling his arms up onto the tabletop. (In doing so he nearly hit Canada who had almost faded out of his mind, but that wasn’t relevant to the conversation so he neither acknowledged nor apologized for it.)</p><p>Now that he was visible again, Russia noticed an air of discomfort wafting off of the Canadian. Following his gaze, Russia looked up at the clock that sat on the wall directly beside the proudly centered American flag. It was getting very close to the official starting time for the general meeting. If they weren’t careful this discussion would have to be continued, which was something the tall country was sure none of them wanted.</p><p>Clearing his throat, careful not to sound too disrespectful and hold up the conversation with more fighting, Russia interrupted the green-eyed personification. “If you don’t mind,” he sighed, “we barely have any time left. So…” he made eye contact with the man he was addressing and narrowed his eyes, “get to the point,”</p><p>For a moment it looked as if his attempt to be kind had failed. England’s nostrils flared, he started to say something but then… “You’re right,” he sighed, deflating, “there is no point in arguing, I’ll skip the description,”</p><p>With the sound of the apology finishing in the background, Canada patted Russia on the back, smiling warmly as if to thank him for cutting the rant short. Russia nodded back, it was definitely just a common courtesy to stop the Englishman’s seemingly endless speeches, or it should have been one in the very least.</p><p>“You know how females can… become pregnant?” England explained, complete seriousness in his voice.</p><p>“Well, obviously we know that dude, get to the point,” America laughed.</p><p>The opposite personification shot him an angry glare, “This part of my explanation is necessary, remember that they have not heard it before my <em>dear</em> <em>Alfred</em>,”</p><p>“Fair enough,” was the teen’s response as he sat back in his seat, “But talk faster please, I’ve just been hanging out in New York and y'all are unbearable,”</p><p>Stopping him before another pointless argument was started, Japan reached across the table and put a hand on England's chest, distracting him from the remark. “Please continue explaining, we do not have much more time here alone,”</p><p>So with a nod, the explanation continued, this time going un-interrupted, “We all know about that fact, but what if I told you with a little tinkering it’s possible for a guy to do the same? What if, with a bit of… ah, <em> fooling around, </em> should I say, it isn’t all that difficult to do?”</p><p>He paused here, so Japan took the opportunity to voice a question, “I’ve never seen it in either, so is this in humans or nations?”</p><p>Seemingly unsure how to answer without coming off as rude, England shifted his weight, “It’s in nations, but I’m sure that it could happen in humans, I just would not recommend it for…” he swallowed, “personal reasons, clearly,”</p><p>Russia felt a sinking sensation in his stomach, was this for real? Was it possible that this had happened to China? If so, why had he not known?</p><p>“I don’t think it can happen naturally,” England said quickly, “so it would have to do with some type of reality change, like a spell or something,”</p><p>They all thought about this for a moment, except for America, who was leaning back in his chair with one for on the table. Not paying attention and playing with the zipper on his jacket. Russia’s mind was racing. If this had happened, which they were not sure of, could it have been on purpose? But why would anyone purposefully…</p><p>Jump scaring everyone, Canada gasped, “A potion! It could be a potion”</p><p>“Good lord Matthew! Don’t <em> do </em> that!” England exclaimed, hand on his chest from the shock.</p><p>“Sorry,” Canada apologized, briefly patting his former caretaker on the head before rushing on, hurriedly explaining what he had meant. “He likes doing medicines and stuff right?” Japan nodded, confirming this.</p><p>“Okay so,” Canada looked around, “aren’t some mixtures of stuff supposed to have effects on bodily systems?”</p><p>England made a face, “Yes, in real medicine, but nothing that intense. What do you mean?”</p><p>Canada started to explain but America interrupted him, “You mean in folklore right?” He grinned crazily, “not real life,”</p><p>“Exactly!” Canada nodded furiously, “and different mythologies along with that, perhaps he has more knowledge on that then we do?”</p><p>“It makes sense,” Japan mussed, “and I’m sure he does, in the past there were a lot of medical documents that we do not have, like all of the ones that were burned in the library of Alexandra and by one of his bosses. He probably took inspiration if this is the case,”</p><p>England nodded slowly, “Yes, a potion could be a possibility based on what I have read…”</p><p>Russia tilted his head curiously, “You have read about this specifically?”</p><p>“Ah- no, not specifically,” England blushed, “But in the sorcery books I read in my free time there are mentions,” he seemed to think about this response carefully before once again speaking, as if editing his words further, “well, there are some basic descriptions in a few chapters but I don’t have enough knowledge on potions to create basic transformation magic, let alone something like this,”</p><p>Another silence, but just as Canada opened his mouth, as if to say something else and add to the conversation, the door opened. In walked France, his hair tied back with a plaid ribbon. (Russia really hoped that that wasn’t supposed to look good, because if it was he had officially lost faith in the French man’s fashion sense.)</p><p>He paused, one hand still on the doorknob and the other intertwined with the wavy blond hair that didn’t back it into the ponytail. His violet-blue eyes swept over the faces in the room, almost picking up on a sort of guilt in each of their expressions.</p><p>“Did I…” he asked tentatively, “walk in on something?”</p><p>“No,” England sighed, “no you didn’t, come on sit down,”</p><p>Russia looked around the room too. It seemed as though their discussion had been ended right as they were getting somewhere. America was leaned back in his chair again, looking bored once more. England was having a quiet fight with France over the comfy chair he had claimed before anyone else had gotten there. Canada was taping his fingers, eyes trained hare on the wood of the table top.</p><p>Japan sighed, looking over at Russia exhaustedly, “well,” he tried to smile, “we kind of got somewhere…”</p><p>“Yes,” Russia frowned, “If this is even the right path to take, how do we know this is even close to the truth?” He tried his best to keep the emotion out of his voice but a little bit of real worry still crept in.</p><p>Japan’s face softened, “Don’t worry,” he said, “if it’s not true than we have less to worry about in the form of his well-being.”</p><p>Russia knew this was true. But he just couldn’t seem to shake the creeping, weight like feeling that it was far from un-true.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N This chapter was trash but the story is rolling and it’s about to get more exciting. :D Does every Sunday for updates sound good?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter Sixteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Sixteen</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*This chapter is set before Chapter Fifteen and directly after Chapter Fourteen which is why it is all in italics (much like Chapter Twelve).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>China was still in his kitchen thirty minutes after Russia left. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still spinning the cup between his hands. Still thinking about their interaction.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He enjoyed talking to the Russian. He really did. It was sometimes nice to be able to talk to people other than himself or his bosses. Occasionally he spoke with the neighbors but he hadn’t really tried to interact with them recently. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was usually an internal struggle to talk with humans who he could get along with. On one hand, he was happy that they didn’t have to suffer through near-eternal life. On the other hand, however, it was awful to see people he cared about go.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>People he cared about.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The cup’s spinning stopped with a hollow ‘clack’ as his nails hit the edges. It really was not healthy to keep thinking about negative things. Wasn’t he supposed to be… what was the word. Ditzy? Light hearted? Not depressed?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A heavy sigh left his lungs. Did he really care if it was ‘healthy’? No. No of course not. It didn’t matter to him if what he thought about, or at least the light he viewed things he thought about in, was negative. He knew that if he didn’t make an effort to heal he wouldn’t. (He wasn’t really sure if he was ready to heal even after all this time.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Innocently, as if his mind was trying to get itself off of the topic, Russia drifted back into his mind. The white haired, violet eyed personification he had been sure he disliked. Had been.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At this point he was starting to appreciate the man. His visits (even if more times than not in the middle of the night) were a good way to not lose himself in loneliness. With company, even if it was such pathetic company as that, there were times he could get the pain of past experiences out of his head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sad? Yes, of course it was.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He had things to take care of, multiple human leaders to worry about, a dragon boss who hadn’t contacted him in over a month. The dishes, meetings, paperwork and general selfcare. But what did that matter in the long run if something as trivial as trauma over two thousand years ago was still fresh in his mind?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was fully aware that the others had been through awful things, and many of his other experiences in war (particularly injuries) should have been worse and more fresh in his mind. But those things happened far more often than misscariage.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Actually, did it fully count as misscariage? It had been through an injury after all, did that change the classification somehow? (In the back of his mind he knew it did not change the classification, it was just a question he asked himself quite often.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>This question roughly translated into,</span></em> <em><span>“but is it valid?” He asked himself aloud, head snapping up from the table to stare daggers at the wall across from him.</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And really, was it valid? Did it count if no one but him was aware of it? If he was a guy and no one would believe him if he even tried to tell anyone? Probably not.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>An impossible weight seemed to drop in his abdomen, the bitter taste of dull fear sticking to the back of his throat. What if people would blame him for it? He did of course blame himself so it would not be a far cry if others thought the same. He had been the one to agree to go into the battle. He had been the one to foolishly allow the injury to happen. He had-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Quietly, he cut himself off, “No,” he whispered, slowly standing, “just don’t think about it.” (This was a horrible coping mechanism and he knew it, but with the rare will to care about his own well being it was the best he could do.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pulling himself away from the table he left the cup of tea, knowing he would eventually come back to it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tracing the path of his eyebrows, China rubbed his eyelids with the tips of his fingers, groaning to himself. He felt distantly tired, the exhaustion from the conversation with Russia finally catching up. Keeping up an act to seem happy for long periods of time was hard work.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But he paused. It hadn’t really been an act the entire time, he truly had been enjoying himself for most of the conversation. An itchy feeling rose on his arms, raising the fine hairs that sat there.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was used to keeping on a mask to hide his true thoughts, as he knew most of his allies and enemies did. It was a natural safety precaution after so many betrayals in their long lives. Now that he didn’t need one anymore he felt strangely…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Unsafe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was as if there were people talking about him. That classic feeling of ‘people walking on his grave’ as humans said. A discomfort that settled in the back of his chest, between his upper ribs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Even with such an ally as Russia, who always kept his own emotions an enigma (especially to China, who didn’t really understand how regular, non-hidden emotions worked) there was still something distantly thrilling about keeping secrets. But now that the secrets were being worked to the surface he felt anything but thrilled.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He felt scared. Really and truly scared of what was to come.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He wouldn’t feel anger if the others blamed him, it was what he expected from them after all. But he was still scared of that reaction. He had tried his best to prepare himself, to keep the fear of rejection at a minimum.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But it really hadn’t worked very well. He still felt an urge to vomit up what little he had eaten that day, an urge to pull out his own hair strand by strand. He was trapped in this moment. But it was reality.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was his reality and he couldn’t do anything about it. That had to become apparent at some point…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Growling to himself and making a swift turn in his steps to begin pacing, China tried to fight down the feeble, stereotypically girl-ish reaction.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was a full grown man (or at least he seemed to be, he actually wasn’t sure what his physical age was) who had been walking the Earth for thousands of years. He wasn’t fearful. He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t supposed to second guess himself, he had to be sure what his actions would cause, careful of every eye blink, of every off-hand phrase. This was necessary for his own comfortable survival.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But he hadn’t really been doing that much recently had he? He had been outspoken and plainly the opposite of careful with words.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where were your primal instincts when you needed them? (Or as the case may be the ability to fight them down.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They weren’t in a war anymore, he had no reason to be angry, no reason to fight for his own safety. He had to be calculated. Calm. Polite.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But that’s so </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard</span>
  <em>
    <span>,” he groaned to himself. And it was. It was hard when so many things were on his mind.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Again distracting himself, the Asian nation tried to think about other things. And again his mind fell on his newly found half friend. Russia. The discomfort subsided, taking a backseat to curiosity and appreciation. Russia, though terrifying in many aspects, had been very kind to him recently.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His heart swelled with respect. It wasn’t quite trust, not yet, but it was close. Even if he was only in it for personal gain (which, let's be real here, he most likely was) kindness was highly valued.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A small smile was visible now, though the short personification did not notice it. He truly loved spending time with the foolish Russian. Loved watching him talk, loved appreciating his accent, no, every aspect of his voice. Hearing the way sounds bounced around in English compared to his native language.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How he was able to keep conversation on track even with virtually no social edicate, how he could accidentally tell jokes and laugh at them, how-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>China caught himself, disgruntled. What was he thinking? He had to remain neutral. He had to be careful with what he thought about or the words in his head would start to come true. He didn’t believe he could be thinking positive things about the man who had once represented the USSR (not that China’s current state was all that much better). He </span>
  </em>
  <span>refused</span>
  <em>
    <span> to admit that he cared about anyone but those nation’s he had raised.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It had always been too painful historically to care about anyone else. He had to keep these thoughts to himself for the sake of his own well-being.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But a voice in the back of his head still whispered, ‘</span>
  </em>
  <span>these thoughts are in your head’</span>
  <em>
    <span> it said. ‘</span>
  </em>
  <span>Why can’t you think of them if they are only heard by you?’</span>
  <em>
    <span> it continued to ask.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lies!” He seethed to himself. Emotion, especially ones that affected others, were bad ideas. He had years of experience to back this up. Years of allies who betrayed him. Years of bosses who didn’t care about him as a person. Years of pain and suffering for both him and his people that were caused by foolish mistakes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t with it. Secrets were better forgotten, not whispered behind his back, not put on a billboard for all to see, not obstructed from his own view but no one else’s.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shifting his weight back onto his right foot, China half-fell into a sitting position on the floor. He held his face in his hands.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a hopeless fight. He should have stopped caring by now. Most women were able to get over misscariage, or at least to move on in their lives. But on the other hand most women could talk to people about their pregnancy related struggles. Most women didn’t have to keep such awful things to themselves.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But he wasn’t ‘most women’. He wasn’t even a woman.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Growling into the dark olive skin of his palm, China tried to let his emotions out smoothly. Why did his curiosity always do this to him? What was it with his luck and painful memories?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a certain beauty in this moment. A certain eerie calm in his collapsed figure in the middle of the lonely kitchen. A certain defiance directed at reality.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m so sorry little one,” he choked, “you didn’t… deserve this,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He wasn’t even talking to the fetus that had been growing. He was referring to the consciousness that it could have been. The person it could have grown into. He didn’t know if it had had a consciousness, if it had thought things or hadn’t been given a soul yet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He had no idea how that was to work in a regular human and the helpless confusion was only advanced by the fact that he had not been born. He was related to no one by blood.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Another strangely peaceful reality sat in that lonely phrase. At least he got to be his own being, not needing to act in the wake of any ancestors or make the way for anybody who would remember him as family.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone he had tried to treat as family no longer saw him as such, or never had in the first place. That was the miserable part of it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was driving himself into a corner in his own mind, constantly running in circles to avoid the hard questions. He had to hide from himself to get a decent night of sleep now that there was no immediate war or threat of nuclear annihilation weighting on him instead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did Russia have to leave so soon? Now he had relatively nothing to comfort himself with. He just wanted to curl up beside- anyone really, though he had a select few who would be best- and fall asleep. A completely innocent exchange, though very hard to come by.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Silent tears stung the corners of his eyes as he wiped his nose the the back of his sleeve, a loud ‘sniff’ following quickly. He refused to completely break down.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In a few days (or was it weeks? He wasn’t sure) there was a meeting at America’s house. It wasn’t a world meeting as it had been last time, but there was still a creditable amount of people expected to attend.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He had to keep it together for a bit longer. Just a bit longer.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N I couldn’t have y’all getting too comfortable without some hopeless angst now could I? Also I moved to updates to Saturday for school’s sake.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter Seventeen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Seventeen</b>
</p><p>
  <span>*There is a bit of flirtiness in this, but nothing close to smut. I also mentioned some state OC’s and Britannia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When France had told him that he would be staying over for a few days England had not interpreted it as ‘watching everything he did carefully with some to zero explanation’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This particular evening England was plopped down on the floor in front of the fireplace, bent over in his sorcery books as usual. France was lying on the couch behind him and attempting to read the coded runes by himself with no training or help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the meeting, where they discussed politics and the difference between communism and capitalism, Japan had privately asked him to research the topic of male pregnancy. Of course he had complied, what else was he to do? He had known China for quite a long time (though not nearly as long as Russia or Japan) </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> this was a new topic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>New topics were usually entertaining to learn about, to study when there was nothing else to do other than mow the lawn and wait for The Beatles to make more music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a few questions mon amour,” France started, only to be cut off by England.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you have questions,” here he turned to make a nasty face at the blond, “you can start off by not calling me that, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> your love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up on his forearms, France smiled a smile that almost certainly had a dirtier meaning behind it, “fair enough,” he purred, “what’s the second step? Taking off your shirt~?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not funny,” England cautioned, scooting further away. They hadn’t had such a relationship for a long time, seeing as the rockier bits of history were often better for a certain style of... intimacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright alright,” France sighed, “but what else could I do to understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going back to his book, England lowered his bushy eyebrows in clear disapproval, “For one thing you could learn the material you wish to study,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, France rolled over onto his stomach, still staring at the back of England's head as he addressed him, “And who would I learn that from? I don’t have fairy friends like you and Norway, it isn’t so easy for me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, seeming to want the best possible reaction, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>mon amour,</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words rang in England's ears. Finally, the younger blond turned to face his ally, a twinge of amusement pulling on the corners of his mouth, “You are annoying me on purpose, are you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got me,” France smiled darkly, “I’m trying to get the reaction I want out of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” England huffed, hoisting himself onto the couch next to the other, “If it’s sex you want I can tell you right now that...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France raised an eyebrow, a smile edging in on his expression. Seeing this, England made a face, disgusted by the older man’s readiness for the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...you aren’t getting any,” England sneered, combatting the flirty air in the room with sass. When France pouted and looked distressed (and as if he was about to argue on the topic) England hurried on, “Besides, I have to keep researching, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of important after all,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” France hummed, sitting up and looking down at the old paper in the personification’s hands, “I’ve been meaning to ask that,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask what?” England responded, carefully turning a page of the worn out material.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you researching? You’ve told me that it’s important multiple times yet it has still not been explained to me,” France mussed, tapping his scruffy chin with one long index finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England paused, having not expected any real interest on the subject. Pondering what he was to say for only slightly longer than necessary, England responded slowly, “I don’t think I’m supposed to confide it with you, to tell the truth,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When France sighed and sat up further causing England to instinctively scoot away, hurrying to explain his words, “I-I mean,” he stuttered, unable to hide the alarm in Frances sudden movement even as the other blond went still once more, violet eyes trained on his own green ones, “I could probably tell you, I’m just not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spare me your explanations,” France sighed, closing his eyes tiredly, “I understand. Though…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snapping his eyelids open he made eye contact with the English man, yet another teasing smile barely hidden behind the long blond-gray hair, “...if it has to do with what you, Matthew, and the others were discussing I’m sure you don’t have to hide it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England’s face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and disgust, “You were eavesdropping?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging as it were no big deal, France sat up the rest of the way, taping his thin fingers against his knees, “It’s not that bad mon amour, it doesn’t even fully affect you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it does!” England spluttered, “This is supposed to be a secretive operation!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” France shrugged, noting how the other didn’t notice how he had called him ‘love’ once more, “You should be more careful then, but now I know and you can’t exactly go back and change the past so that I would forget. Why don’t you explain to me what specifically you are researching?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like hell I would!” exclaimed England furiously, hugging the leather-coated book to his chest as tightly as he could without damaging it’s delicate pages, “I have to tell Kiku about this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> aren’t supposed to know!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no need for that,” France sighed again, “I understand your anger, eavesdropping is a very primitive form of spying after all,” ignoring the hissed utterance of ‘that isn’t the problem here’ he continued. “But pretending I don’t know will just be more harmful to your cause, why don’t you share with me what you are doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” England growled, pulling his knees against the cover of the book that hugged his chest, “I won’t do that without telling Japan, he trusts me,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he though?” France mussed, “Are you sure he trusts you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of letting England struggle to find a proper answer to this France cut off his attempts with more fancy word play, “He could trust me as well, because we are basically connected at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hip</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England spoke over the blonde’s laughter at his own joke, “we are not ‘connected at the hip’ and we never have been, your jokes are only amusing to yourself dumbass,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm that’s too bad,” France giggled, trying to get down the rest of his amusement, “they are pretty funny jokes once you give them a chance-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am NOT giving your jokes a chance frog,” England hissed, “and I am NOT giving you a chance to work on this project without Kiku’s permission. Besides, Russia would most likely not enjoy you working on this project, and he was the one who started it I believe,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was?” There was a certain mirth in the statement. Almost as if he did not believe the Russian cared enough to start such an invasive project. England took hidden joy in the disbelief. He had also been surprised when Japan told them about Russia’s placement in the project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had, as the only one in the small group who understood magic, been working for considerably less time than the tall, seemingly childish nation. Smirking, England shifted his weight into a more prideful position, “are you shocked? Come on, give me a good reaction Francis,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not shocked,” France said simply smiling kindly and seeming to not notice the bragyness of Britain's response, “In fact,” he closed his eyes in a happy expression, “I saw this coming, Ivan seems to have a bit of a soft spot for Yao,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England laughed, putting all of his emotion into the gesture, “What? No way he does, Russia’s probably in it for personal gain,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you think,” France hummed, opening his eyes slowly, “But you don’t really understand love do you Arthur?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I understand- wait, what?” But France was already continuing, on a roll now that he was in the conversational offensive position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not think you do Arthur,” he responded quietly, sudden seriousness filling his words, “love is very complex, few people understand it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then who is to say that you do and I do not?” England snorted, making a nasty, judging face in his general direction, “What about this situation says that I do not understand love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Many things point to your confusion in the subject,” France nodded, clearly viewing this as fact, “and as for your first question, I clearly care more about keeping relationships real. You do not understand how many layers there are to a healthy one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Accusatory much?” England growled, finally standing from the couch, “I can kick you out you know, this is my house, not yours.” To prove the point, he pulled France up as well, yanking the sleeve of his very purple sweatshirt until he stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa now,” France held up his arms as he stood, “there is no reason to be so angry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course there is!” England huffed, beginning to drag him to the door, “you are being disrespectful in </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> house, you insulted my cooking, you are insulting my project, you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing and pulling back and away from the other’s grasp, France shook his head, “I wasn’t being disrespectful to your cooking my making my own food, that isn’t disrespect, I just didn’t want to leave you without any,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France had learned a long time ago how to get away from England’s cooking without outright refusing it, if he made his own food before Arthur offered any he could say that he was full. But of course England still saw this as disrespectful since he was the host and it was turning down his hospitality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a very kind thought,” England said through gritted teeth, “but next time you shouldn’t make such obvious excuses, I quite like my cooking, and even if all of you don’t seem to like my personal cooking I don’t see why you don’t like my people’s,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This conversation isn’t about your people,” France sighed, “and shouldn’t you be researching if it’s so important?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taken aback, England stuttered, “O-of course, but I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right!” France exclaimed, smiling widely to portray indifference about their argument, “I’ll go get you some animal crackers and cheese,” He then turned away, leaving England spluttering about how even he knew that animal crackers did not go with cheese, especially not cheddar which was all he had in the fridge at the moment. (America had given it to him as a parting gift, apparently they made some killer extra sharp in upstate New York.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he went back to the floor where he had been sitting anyway, a heavy blush layering on his cheeks every second. As France got out normal crackers and even a few biscuits (or </span>
  <em>
    <span>cookies</span>
  </em>
  <span> as America was so adamantly insistent on calling them) he buried his nose back in the book he had been studying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England loved reading all of his sorcery books, but the spell sections were his favorite. That was why he was struggling a bit. He had a basic knowledge of potions but he never went out of his way to read about them or make any so the terminology was a bit tricky. He was certain he had read this section before but he didn’t remember any of it since he didn’t need the information at the time, or rather he preferred not to think about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence for around twenty minutes, France gently laying out the food he was to give his ally and England sweating about words he was having an unexpectedly hard time translating. Finally, however, he spoke up and broke the tense atmosphere with his own frustrated, drawn out words, “Whenever this was…” he paused to squint at a rune, “...if it happened, it had to have been a damn long time ago, I’ve never seen China use any modern magic and these are some bloody old spells,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France laughed, “Well of course you haven't, he doesn't have any reason to and, between me and you, I’m pretty sure magic is only ever easy for you, Norway, and Romania,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Moldova,” England credited the small nation, “but we all specialize in different things, maybe at some point China would have been to potions one,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Possibly,” France acknowledged, “but was Britannia the one with magic back then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart softening at the mention of his mother, England shifted his weight, “It was just a suggestion, and I don’t think she actually used it much,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” France nodded again, going back to plating the crackers and cheese, groaning under his breath, “Why do you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>cheese? Cheddar is alright and all, but I would think you would prefer other types…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just be glad it isn’t that plasticy American cheese,” England muttered, “that stuff is bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>nasty</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, France turned to him, “Let me guess, Alfred gave this to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course he did!” England blistered, “I don’t go out of my way to meet up with New York and buy cheese from her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does anyone really hang out with her though?” France smirked, “She has quite the boisterous personality, and that oily pizza is disgusting!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were again silent for a bit, England struggling with a particularly unfamiliar rune as France cleaned up the wrapping from the package of cheese. Finally he was finished with cleaning the area and picked up the platter, beginning his walk back to the living room. He made it to the couch, setting the food down on the coffee table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do commend her on the bagels though…” he mussed, plopping down onto the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” England asked, slightly flustered and not really paying attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“New York,” France stated, “Anyway,” he rushed on, “how much further have you gotten?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much,” England sighed, “and I’m still mystified as to why anyone would use, it seems very risky and hard to make,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably,” France nodded, “but I’m sure it would be easier if you had a history in making this type of… is it still called magic? I’m not familiar with all the hexes and spells and curses and stuff,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still magic,” England confirmed, cutting France’s attempt at another sentence off to start an explanation about the difference between the things he had mentioned. (Of course France wasn’t really listening, he didn’t actually care about these things, just as he didn’t care about the modern technological advances that were happening. Quite honestly both freaked him out.) Once the Brit was finished he turned around, staring into Frances eyes, “Does that make sense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah,” France stuttered, pretending to have been listening, “that was a big help,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England smiled, “If you need any more explanations feel free to ask me!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: This is the cheese I was talking about (it’s the best frickin’ cheese ever): https://www.cabotcheese.coop/product/new-york-extra-sharp-cheddar-cheese/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter Eighteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Eighteen</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you want to get that?” China playfully bumped Russia with his hip, “I’m telling you aru, that coffee does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>taste good,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? And you are warning me?” Russia snorted as he flipped through the Russian ruble (his currency) he held, counting it. An unexplainable happiness had overcome him this morning but he refused to believe it was connected to the outing he had planned with China.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes aru!” China hissed, his voice shaking as he tried not to laugh, “It sucks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah whatever,” Russia shook his head, “I’m sure you’re just being dramatic…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really not aru,” China shook his head harder, “you are going to regret this, I’ll bet on it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will?” Russia raised a playful eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” China grinned, showing his rarely surfacing competitive side, “I’ll bet you one hundred…” he paused before nodding, looking satisfied with the number he came up with, “...and thirty seven yuan you’ll regret it aru~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no clue what that is in ruble but I’ll bet on it too,” Russia smirked, before looking up to see that the girl behind the counter was quickly walking over. He almost ignored China’s snorted, ‘twenty American dollars, you should be able to afford it’, while staring at her. She wore the uniform, nothing special. Just a regular human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for the wait,” the girl apologized, “One of my coworkers dropped an ice cream in the deep fryer and it made a mess,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia heard China mutter ‘it’s fine’ under his breath before raising his head higher and smiling at her, “I’m sure that would make a mess,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she sighed, seemingly grateful that they hadn’t started to chew her out over something that wasn’t her fault, “but anyway, what do you two want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ordered their food, Russia claiming the coffee despite China’s warnings, on the other hand China hesitated before grabbing a soda. (Which Russia had been quite certain he didn’t enjoy only a few years before.) As they made their way over to a corner table he commented on this, “I didn’t think you liked soda,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t aru,” China sighed, “I couldn’t think of anything else to get without holding up the line,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There wasn’t a line,” Russia pointed out, plopping into one chair and almost spilling the still very hot coffee on himself, “and why worry about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s called being polite Ivan,” China smirked, sitting down as well, though he placed the drink on the table beforehand so as to not suffer the same fate Russia nearly had, “but of course you don’t know much about that aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia tried to protest but China shook his head, “I’m joking obviously, no need to worry aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Russia crossed his arms, leaning back slightly in his chair and smiling in a way that could have looked threatening if he didn’t mean it truthfully, “what were we going to talk about again? Some things got lost in translation I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China raised an eyebrow, talking around the plastic straw that he was now drinking out of, “What do you mean ‘lost in translation’? We just discussed going to get drinks aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia closed his eyes, leaning down and bringing the styrofoam cup up to his mouth, preparing to drink the hot liquid, “I don’t know, I’m not exactly the best at conversation, perhaps you had specifics?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not aru,” China shook his head, putting the soda back down again and watching carefully for Russia’s reaction to the coffee. So when the white haired nation’s eyes flew open, making a sort of retching noise in his throat, he smirked, “Is it bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia had spat out the coffee, “This is-” he sputtered with his words as China began to laugh, “This is really gross!” There was a twinge of embarrassment to his voice as he wiped the edge of his mouth with his sleeve, “why didn’t you warn me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did warn you aru!” China tried to make eye contact, laughing, “isn’t it horrendous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Russia spluttered, meeting his eyes urgently before frantically staring into the depths of his drink, squinting one eye for better vision into the dark liquid, “What the hell is it made of?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea aru, but presumably coffee beans,” the corners of the Asian personification’s mouth twitched violently as he took the plastic lid off of his cup. He looked up to see Russia staring at him with a look of dumbfounded betrayal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you stop me from picking it up then?” His voice nearly cracked, making the statement sound partially heartbroken. China tried to ignore him, now shaking with silent laughter as he struggled to bring his own drink to his lips. “I wasted ten dollars on this,” Russia shook his head, “why did you let me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China managed to get a proper hold of the drink he held even as his shoulders shook with laughter. He took another sip as Russia continued to berate him with meaningless and teasing complaints. “Ivan you actually wasted thirty dollars, if we are talking about American ones here aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia raised an eyebrow, breaking off from his partial rant, “How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet you that you would hate it, and you do. I basically asked for twenty and you agreed to it aru,” He smirked at the Russian, swirling the straw that had been removed around in the soda once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia seemed to do the math in his head, counting numbers on his gloved fingers before the realization settled on his face. “I hate you sometimes Yao…” he pouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah okay,” China rested his chin on one hand, reaching the other out across the table, “pay up. The coffee tastes nasty, we both agree on this aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia stared in astonishment, shaking his head slowly from side to side disbelievingly, “I don’t get you…” but he reached into his pocket anyway, pulling out a twenty dollar bill after some searching. He always kept some American dollars on him now that they were so commonly used, it was actually pretty common for personifications to do this with multiple forms of currency since there was so much travel in their lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” China smirked as he plucked it out of the other’s hand, a certain mischievous air to his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia rolled his eyes, “and how’s your drink mr. master gambler?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eye’s lighting up, China smiled, “It’s good!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you didn’t like soda,” Russia furrowed his brow, a confused smile-like expression playing on his lips, “isn’t that what you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes it is aru,” China nodded, “but I like sugar, so that kind of balances out my hatred for these strange bubbled drinks aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Russia snorted at the ridiculousness of their conversation, taping a finger on the edge of his abandoned styrofoam cup, “I forgot about that,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sugar is great though,” China nodded vigorously, “I would think you would agree with me, right aru?” when Russia tried to speak he cut him off once more, giving off a jittery attitude in even his speech, “but I probably shouldn’t have too much of it all at once aru, the caffeine and sugar content are both very high and unhealthy, especially combined aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell,” Russia responded, resting his chin in his hands and staring into China’s face. Neither of them seemed to notice the contented smile that now took up the once blank space of his mouth. China was busy swirling a plastic straw in the bubbly liquid, golden brown eyes fixed hard on it as if expecting something exciting to happen. Russia on the other hand only sat there internally appreciating the company, though whether he enjoyed seeing China or just not being alone he would never be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>FInally China seemed to realize that their conversation had gone silent, though he seemed far more distressed about this than Russia, who had been enjoying the peaceful quiet. “Sorry aru-!” the brown haired country exclaimed, a certain embarrassment in the way he said it, “were you trying to ask something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” Russia sighed, pulling himself into a straight-back sitting position once more, “our conversation has progressed so there is no longer a need to describe this meeting,” he nodded kindly, but was caught somewhat off guard by what his companion said next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose France would call this a date,” he mused, thoughtfully tilting his head and staring up into a far corner of the ceiling, “but that’s only by his definition I’m sure aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah,” Russia stuttered, a light blush landing on his cheeks though it went unnoticed by his ally, “I suppose he would call in that,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you are right,” China nodded solemnly, “it doesn't exactly need a label aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia pondered this as well, “No,” he mused, “I suppose it doesn't…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were silent once more, Russia staring forlornly at his still full cup of coffee as China downed the rest of his drink. There was a soft clicking from somewhere in the coffee shop, the murmured voices of the employees from the back room. A calming veil seemed to rest over the place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course China interrupted this, making Russia jump as his suddenly spoke, seemingly staring off into the distance, “I can feel the sugar rush settling in already aru…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Russia looked confused, as if to question his knowledge in the subject (though he did not have to audibly express this) China was sure to clarify, “I don’t always do well with sugar aru, well it doesn't hurt me but it’s… um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrenaline inducing?” Russia finished for him, even though it was in the form of a question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” China nodded, “I guess it has to do with consumption of other foods or something? I haven’t researched it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia shrugged, “I wouldn’t know, I’m not really interested in those sorts of things,” his companion nodded harder at this before stopping once more and making eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you aren’t aru,” he stared (this statement was so deliberate that it almost sounded like an insult). Russia blinked, not quite understanding. China shook his head at the silent question, “you have other things to do most of the time, but hey,” he looked up, smiling brightly, “at least you aren’t bored aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so~!” Russia chuckled, the contented smile still present on his face. Boredom really was horrible, he knew this first hand, especially since it was paired with the loneliness he was cursed with. (Though the way China had phrased the statement raised more than a few questions about how he spent his time when no one else was around.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their pointless banter continued, the early morning light fading away into the warm sunny daylight that afternoon so often held. It wasn’t quite so late yet, but it was the same warmth that Russia appreciated so much, an innocent break away from the freezing cold of his homeland. China didn’t seem to notice the difference, he lived in the southern-ish part of the country so he was used to such temperatures. Russia partially envied that carelessness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having already paid- as was the custom in the shop- neither one of them panicked when China got a call on his phone. (Their governments were really using these new technologies to the best of their abilities and it truly showed.) Russia didn’t understand the language his ally spoke in but he assumed that it was to not seem disrespectful by using English or some other form of speech. Russia tapped his fingers on the table, staring into his eyes and trying to convey the question he wished to ask; ‘what is this about?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing the look and presumably understanding China rolled his eyes, and shrugged his right shoulder. Russia had no clue what that was supposed to mean but at least they had tried to communicate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call was finished a few minutes later. China sighed, putting down the cell phone and rubbing his eyes, interrupting Russia before he even asked the question aloud, “Emergency meeting or something aru, I think I annoyed them somehow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Russia nodded. He knew that feeling alright, even partially corrupt governments, or simply differently in other people’s eyes, were not fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I probably have to go,” China sighed, “I don’t really want to make anyone madder or something aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to intrude on anything,” Russia struggled to come up with compassionate words even though he was genuinely concerned, “but what could you have possibly done that made anyone angry? You haven’t exactly been doing much recently…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s a lot I could have done to anger them aru, especially since I haven’t been doing much,” the statement was stated with a sigh that sounded almost like he was giving up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia raised an eyebrow and China hurried on to explain further, “If I’m not doing much at all that also includes government activities aru, and I have been severely lacking in some of my duties recently, particularly anything to do with communication which is something that is not extremely good at aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Russia confirmed that this made sense. He had dealt with similar bosses in the past, and similar situations (at least he thought so, it was hard to tell what was really going on inside the opposite nation’s mind). He still felt internalized jealousy because of the climate of China’s physical land but he had sympathy over many other things. It sucked to feel useless to the people who constantly sat in higher positions that were just out of reach, even if these people could be killed and were replaced every so often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China bowed his head, “Goodbye Russia, 我希望能再次见到你, and please take care of yourself aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia wasn’t sure of an exact translation but he felt the meaning of the words none-the-less, as he hoped to see his ally in the near future too. He wasn’t great at returning hopeful emotions but he could certainly try, “Я буду беспокоиться о тебе…” he murmured, “take care of yourself as well, да?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China smiled, a hint of sadness in his face, “是.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter Nineteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N This is officially the first chapter I’ve posted during the school year! I’m just going into 9th grade and doing distance learning, so I should be able to keep working on this. But if my schedule gets messed up I will provide a reason. Peace! A/N over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Nineteen</b>
</h3><p>
  <em>
    <span>*More mentions of ancient fan-characters lol, I couldn’t help myself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been weeks, heck, it had been a month and a half since the conference in America’s capital. This didn’t matter to Japan, who had once again scheduled a meeting for a few select nations. This time however, for whatever reason, he had left out Russia. He didn’t know what it was but something about letting him in on the project was starting to rub him the wrong was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that the white haired man had started the operation, had trusted him enough to let Japan drag America into it when they both knew it was risky. He had hoped they could work out their difference but even with their partial alliance it felt strange to let someone had had diligently avoided worry about his former caretaker. This was especially increased by his pure lack of knowledge of why Russia had even started poking around, but he guessed it was for personal gain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the scary part. He did not, under any circumstances want Russia to be able to use private information against any of them, especially someone that Japan still personally cared about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead of being in the capital (where Japan guessed Russia could easily find them) the five of them were now seated in America’s living room. (America had actually tried to complain about this, mentioning something about how it would be even easier for Russia to find them there, which confused Japan because he had been certain the former communist didn’t know his address.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead of negative things Japan tried to focus on the good. France had now joined them, which wasn’t ideal though it couldn’t have been avoided, and they now had someone who could possibly fill up Russia’s spot if they indeed stopped communication on the subject entirely. Japan didn’t fully trust France, either but he knew that the European was a lot more respectful of personal space and such subjects than his personality made it seem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So there they sat, sitting around a small coffee table and listening diligently to England as he tried to explain what little information he had accumulated. America was chowing down on some drive-thru food, which was no surprise, as Canada was quietly chewing a maple candy as politely as he could. Japan had brought a bento but he wasn’t hungry yet, and it seemed that France and England had done similarly with their own foods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...so that’s all I could find,” England sighed, “It’s not much but I’m not the greatest at potions and the runes were harder to translate than I was anticipating…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s alright,” Canada smiled softly, “If you did your best it doesn't matter, and plus, any information is valuable,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Mathew,” England’s face seemed to soften before he turned back to the rest of them, eyes narrowing as he stared at the American who was perched on a pile of carpet squares, “good God Alfred, can you quiet down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America rolled his eyes, pushing the partially chewed bit of hamburger to the side of his mouth so he could speak, “I’m listening, what more do you want?” (Or at least that’s what Japan guessed he was saying, it was often difficult for the Asian personification to tell what his ally said when his mouth was full of food.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England seemed to think similarly. Wrinkling his nose, the British man looked disgusted, “Do not talk like that, it’s utterly disgusting and no one can tell what you are saying. Besides, it’s not very helpful to the conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America snorted and went right back to eating his burger, “E-mf not ‘hat hard to understan’,” he again pushed the food to the side of his mouth to make his words more understandable, pointing an angry finger at the other blond, “If I wasn’t trying to make sense I wouldn’t, trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England looked nearly queasy at the speech but he chose to ignore the retaliation anyway. Japan noticed that unlike the Brit neither Canada nor France looked bothered, perhaps that were more accustomed to it? Or maybe they knew how to block it out, Japan didn’t really see France spending all too much time with the American after all so the second was probably true with at least him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Japan nodded swiftly, “So we have learned that this was a possibility?” His mind was racing, but he wasn’t going to tell the others why. He had already guessed about this, but he couldn’t reveal anything to the rest of them in case he was wrong. It didn’t matter how much they were supposed to brain-storm together, it still felt like it was exclusively his project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we did learn it was a possibility,” England dead-panned, “but not much else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t beat yourself up,” Canada muttered, patting the personification on the back before raising his voice and addressing the rest of them, “this is a wonderful advancement, even if we had a long way to go from here it is very important,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England murmured a word of thanks under this breath and America nodded furiously, showing his appreciation even though his mouth was full. France nodded slowly, though a slight frown was still visible on his face, “It still doesn’t explain any good reason why someone would use it, even if the potion exists…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” England retaliated, “it was out of curiosity?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Curiosity?” France narrowed his eyes, folding his hands gently on the left side of his face and resting his head there, “this is one hell of a thing to be curious about…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa whoa whoa,” America waved his arms, having apparently finished his food by now, “we don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to jump to conclusions, we still don’t even know if this happened, and if it is this is some pretty intense beginner's luck as investigators.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True,” England mused, “but it’s a start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A start that is using a lot of energy!” America exclaimed, “Probably statistically speaking we don’t need to study this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m at least two percent certain that isn’t how statistics work,” Canada rolled his eyes, capitalizing on the ridiculousness of his twin’s outburst, “Any lead is a good lead in the beginning, we need this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t think it’s a good idea! I might not understand statistics but I still don’t think we should put everything into this,” America pouted, “And plus, me and Iggy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England cut him off, glaring angrily towards him with a look of ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>we will talk about this later</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ burning in his eyes, “As Mathew said, any lead is a good lead, stop bloody arguing, it’s annoying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan patted America on the head but nodded as well, “Please let us research this Alfred, I know you don’t get along with Yao but I hope you can cooperate with us, you can truly be a big help when you put your mind too it, so please let use have this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” America crossed his arms and leaned back, “but don’t come running to me when it leads us in the wrong direction,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were silent until France spoke up. “It still doesn’t make any sense, why would anyone voluntarily use this, especially if it’s risky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England shook his head, “I’m not sure, but stop bringing up senseless topics, if it doesn’t help the conversation move forward it’s not important, so I would appreciate it if you don’t mention that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a senseless topic mon amour,” France grit his teeth, “it’s a genuine question, and I’m sure an answer could bring us to the bottom of this- or at least to if this is the wrong path or not- much faster than slow translation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England looked as if he were about to argue back (though if it was about being called love or being insulted about his translation ability Japan was not sure) when Canada gently interrupted them. “Francis does make a fair point, it would most likely be helpful to find the answers to our questions first, would it not be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So England was quite once more, though he still looked slightly annoyed. Japan nodded, taking all points into consideration. As America said, this could seem like the wrong path if he didn’t already- nearly- know it was. He still had information he hadn’t disclosed with the others and he truly wasn’t planning too. But France and Canada were also rather honest in their statements. It was true that their question would be more helpful if they had answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he could try to find the logic behind such an odd action? He didn’t quite understand it either, so… “I’m not sure what thought process could have lead up to that,” Japan sighed, “but I do think is important to take into consideration that Yao was a very different person back in the time period where this could have taken place, so it’s more likely than not a result of bad judgment or a personality trait that is no-longer apparent,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England, France, and Canada seemed to ponder this, and finally Canada nodded, “So with the right context this could be explained much quicker?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Japan started, “if it did happen.” (As aforementioned he was already mostly sure that such an event had occurred, but he wasn’t ready to tell the other’s until he was positive.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what context?” America sighed exasperatedly, “what the hell kind of context do we have?” He looked around at all of them, and when no one was able to find an answer to the broad question he rolled his eyes, “yeah, that’s right. We don’t have context from when ever the fuck time this was, heck, I don’t even know when it could have been.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Canada chewed this inside of his cheek, “Alfred, though an internal antagonist makes for a very interesting novel can you please at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to appreciate theories other than your own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An internal antagonist is often the turning point of a novel,” America retorted before sticking out his tongue and leaning back in this chair, “and I’m sure you know how uncomfortable topics like these make me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England cleared his throat, cutting off whatever confusion Japan was feeling from the last sentence the American had uttered, “...this is true Alfred, but if you have nothing nice to contribute people at least let us talk it over first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>America’s frown deepened as he stood, “Fine, you can talk about it if you want, I’ll be in the kitchen when you end up needing me,” he walked off, and Japan noticed that the quiet steps held significantly less anger than he was expecting, maybe he was more uncomfortable with the topic than angry at it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever the case it made his heart hurt to see his friend acting so strangely. But the meeting had to go one, they rarely got to meet and this was a very good opportunity to talk over all the ideas and theories. Even if at this point it had grown past China, though it still clung to him in some ways, and onto research in this type of magic. The end goal was still something about China (though when Japan tried to think of what nothing came up) but if the potion wasn’t part of it they would certainly lose some of their motivation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan was brought back to the present by Canada's voice. The usually quiet personification was once again speaking in a calm and collected voice, yet audibly this time, which was new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone acts different when they are younger, it probably isn’t a far stretch for someone who has been around this long to have done some crazy things, right Japan?” everyone seemed to turn expectantly towards him at the mention, and Japan blinked in surprise,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Err,” he coughed, “well, yeah, of course. That was my point after all, China wasn’t exactly the same as he is now in the warring periods, but that’s kind of expected, it was a really violent time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you think it was during a time of war?” France tilted his head, seeming interested in this theory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well of course,” Japan blushed awkwardly, “most of what happened in the general time period we are talking about was during a time of war, they really didn’t change government peacefully in the past, I’m sure you are familiar with that France.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond groaned. Oh yes, he was familiar with this. Too familiar. “Fair enough,” he muttered, “but really, how different are we talking here? Completely different personality? Mostly the same? What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of both,” Japan explained, “he was definitely more violent, but that’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...but that’s expected,” England rubbed his eyes, “I know, my mother was the same way, violence had it’s way of keeping you from being killed automatically when there were fewer laws and even fewer ways to enforce them,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother?” Canada looked confused, though he answered his own question anyway, “Britannia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” England confirmed, an appreciative smile on his face, “she was a… wild character.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ever meet her,” Japan hummed, “But I’m sure if her land was near where your’s is now she was powerful,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes,” the Brit seemed to puff up with pride, “She was the person who inspired most of my pirate phase, though I don’t think she would have approved of everything I did…” the statement was complete with a maniacal laugh that truly sent shivers down Japan’s spine. No matter how old he got it could never cease to amaze him how deeply terrifying all of their pasts were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France smirked, “She certainly was interesting… and beautiful too~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan ignored England slapping the other blond, this was a regular occurrence that he really didn’t need to spend energy acknowledging. He had heard of Britannia, but as he had said no real life conversations had been made. Many of the people who had lived then were now gone, it was honestly a miracle that he and China were still alive. Or maybe it was some kind of cruel joke? Though living for a long time had it’s advantages it had even more tragedies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few fuck-ups here and there, a death of a human you cared about, serious injurys that were sustained from battle, the never-ending fight for recognition as a being who needed love. There were too many people who saw them as non-human and treated them terribly (but it could be argued as a fair trade-off since many personifications saw human’s a disposable in return).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt bad for leaving America out, they were friends after all, but it was reassuring to know that he was possibly keeping him from a trigger. He wasn’t sure what could have turned this specific topic into taboo for him, especially because his twin didn’t seem perturbed by it in the slightest, but it was still the best to be safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even England, who had been mentioned by Alfred as if he were also supposed to be triggered by the topic, didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered. In fact, he seemed rather invested in it. (But maybe that was just an actual understanding of spells talking.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan didn’t feel like getting Norway or Romania on board with it, even if they might know more of what to do than England. He was pretty content with the group they had accumulated, and France was much more of a help than he thought he would have ever been. That was much appreciated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even without Russia he felt as though they were successful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe it was because they were without Russia?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N I know I sound batshit crazy with some of these plots but trust me it will all make sense in the end. </p><p>...</p><p>#I just threw a lot of information at you and I’m not sorry, even if the chapter sucked. A/N over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter Twenty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N I know I shouldn’t be making promises literally the second week of school, I really hope to keep posting once every week… and then I look at my plan for this fic and realize that it could literally take me years at this rate… so. </p><p>When I have breaks or a chance I’m going to be writing multiple chapters and trying to post twice a week when possible. Just a hope though. A/N over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Twenty</b>
</h3><p>
  <em>
    <span>More time has passed. Three weeks, perhaps a month, since the aforementioned meeting. In this time China and Russia have gotten along surprisingly well, something America’s government was clearly less-than-thrilled about. (Not that either of the allies cared.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Russia has talked with Japan a few times, every America once or twice, but was still getting the feeling that he was being ignored. He was okay with this, the project was his in the first place, but it was still a rough blow when he first felt it. When he had proposed the idea to Japan he hadn’t cared about the outcome for China. Now, as they got along well instead of reasonably, he was having second thoughts about it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He probably wouldn’t fully care if something bad happened, but there was now that twinge of guilt in the back of his mind, and it stung.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>--------------- ------ ----- ----  ---  ---    --     -      -      -             -                      -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really? We’ve been getting along great aru!” China smiled pointedly, nearly running into the counter in his rush to bring Japan tea, “Why do you not like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan accepted the drink with a nod of thanks, but put in back down on the table immediately, sighing. “I’m not annoyed at your friendship, I don’t have any reason to say or think such a thing. However, I think you should be careful, Russia can be dangerous…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dangerous? So can you aru,” China smirked, firing back the argument as soon as he plopped down next to the smaller country, “and so can I, if he wants to hurt me I’ll hit him right back,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has </span>
  <em>
    <span>bombs</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yao, hydrogen bombs, atomic bombs, nuclear bombs,” Japan rubbed his eyes, “you don’t want to feel one of those, especially because apparently humans found a way to make them worse…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China frowned, “I regret that that happened to you, but it wasn’t Russia who did that, it was America. Don’t you get along with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan groaned, “that isn’t the point! I was just saying that Russia can be dangerous!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can, I’ll agree with that,” China nodded sympathetically, “but as I said, if he finds it amusing to hurt me I can and will start another war,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that's the thing,” Japan grumbled, “we don’t want another war </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> quickly, there has been too much death, too much destruction...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s unfortunate aru,” China nodded, “so that’s why I’m not going to reject him,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan shook his head, “How will that help? If you stop getting along then a war will start. It’s inevitable!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As will one if you and that kid stop being agreeable, he could easily destroy you, and I correct aru?” By ‘that kid’ he was referring to the American personification, who was much younger than anyone else mentioned in the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but that will take time!” Japan tried to argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Russia and myself will take a while to hate one another as well! If I just stop talking to him, or for fucks sake, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignore </span>
  </em>
  <span>him in the first place. There’s no way he is going to like that aru!” China shook his head, “Besides, I don’t see the problem with being nice if both of us are enjoying it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting out a deep sigh, Japan nodded, “Okay,” he sighed again, shoulders sinking, “Okay sure, that’s valid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you aru,” China rolled his eyes, “didn’t think I would ever have an argument about whether or not I can talk to someone I’ve known for thousands of years…” Japan raised an eyebrow and China’s upper lip twitched, “other than with humans I mean, that happens plenty aru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the clarification,” Japan nodded, “I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a bitter discomfort between the two now, but that was expected. That was alright, even if their accumulated conversational aggression had heightened significantly. China stared into Japan’s eyes, though the shorter nation refused to return the gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kiku,” he whispered, but Japan turned away further. If China were more naive he might have thought his companion was crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shorter of the two was forcibly playing a game of keep-away with his eyes, keeping just out of his former ally's reach. He looked sad, that was for certain (or perhaps it was angry, China wasn’t the best with specific emotions), but that didn’t mean he was going to cry. It took a lot to make one of them cry. Death of loved ones, extreme pain (emotional or physical), even stress, but it wouldn’t happen suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on aru,” China tried to smile, leaning over the table just far enough to grab hold of his friend’s hand, “I’ll be fine, if that’s what you’re worried about. This is just like England being around France and making up, but less-” he paused, fumbling with words, before giving up, “...</span>
  <em>
    <span>sexual</span>
  </em>
  <span> aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made eye contact as China trailed off, Japan’s face still rested in his palm. It was silent for just a second, the calm wiring of an electrical fan in a far away room, the chirping of a songbird outside a window. China smiled slightly, as if cautiously, both of their hands still clasped together over the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan snorted out a puff of air, his eyes rolling close before snapping open once more. Sitting up straighter he pulled his left arm away from the other’s grasp, “Okay,” he whispered, “I’ll take it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China nodded, that soft smile still present on his face, “Hm,” he hummed in agreement before shifting his weight and standing, silently asking Japan to follow him. Japan blinked at this, confused by his companion’s actions. A short ‘but you just got me tea’ was all he had time to wonder out loud for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China rolled his eyes, “and you haven’t drank it yet aru, just follow me,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Japan sighed and stood up, off-handedly causing China to laugh in mild amusement as his knee loudly cracked. Japan blushed and pouted involuntarily, “Really?” he muttered, glancing at his friend, “you do that all the time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know aru, but…” China trailed off into another laugh when he saw Japan’s pout, “why are you looking at me like that? You make fun of yourself for being old too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah but you are still older than me…” Japan lip twitched into a semi-smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes aru, and I wear it like a badge of honor as I should,” China nodded. Japan rolled his eyes as the other East Asian nation started to walk but followed anyway. Their banter continued as they traveled through the house until Japan finally asked the question that he was itching to know the answer to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind Yao,” Japan bit the inside of his cheek, “where are you taking me? It feels like we’re going in circles, I know your how is bigger than mine but this feels excessive…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were going in circles aru,” China smirked, finally opening a door and slipping inside, raising his voice almost comically in an expression of humour before turning the light on, “I was seeing how long it would take you to notice!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan blinked and stepped into the room as well, “...why though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why what?” China asked. Focusing on the piles of stuff that surrounded them, bending down on one knee and fishing through one pile in particular. They seemed to be in some sort of bedroom, or it could have been a bedroom at some point. Instead it was now being used as some sort of storage closet. Finally, as it seemed Japan hadn’t heard him, China straighted his back and turned glanced over his shoulder, “...why what aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhm,” Japan tried to remember why he had asked, now focused on the mess in the room, “I don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeming to notice that he was preoccupied, and already guessing what by, China looked embarrassed, “Sorry, I should have warned you about the mess aru, I just haven’t cleaned this room out yet…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Japan blushed, “it’s fine, I just thought you liked cleaning and stuff…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, China went back to searching through the pile, “Enjoying cleaning is a bit of an overstatement aru, I just like things to be clean…” he didn’t see Japan nod but he continued anyway, “besides, this was Hong Kong’s room,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan blinked, “This was his room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you think it was mine?” China rebutted almost emotionlessly. Japan blinked in surprise at the blankness of the statement but was quickly brought back to reality when China spoke again, “I’d never leave a mess like this in a room I use, that’s disgusting aru!” brushing off the initial shock now that there was at least an octave change in the sentence, Japan rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn't live here anymore though, does he? And this is your house, so I don’t think he’d be so angry if you at least sorted it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quiet for a second, and Japan almost regretted his decision to mention such a soft subject. China finally sighed, “I know,” standing up, now holding a bag in his arms, he continued, “But I’m still hanging onto the hope that he doesn’t leave for good,” resisting the urge to mention that it was partially his own fault that Hong Kong left, Japan tried to get a good look at the object China was holding as he passed by. There was nothing particularly distinctive about it, but he was sure that he knew it from somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, flipping the light switch back off as he left, Japan followed his friend out the door. Their feet padding on the floor in succession, Japan tried to remember where the hell he knew the bag from, because it certainly wasn’t from any recent time period. And, more worryingly, if it wasn’t from recently then why in the world was it in Hong Kong’s old room?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, Japan wondered why he had even followed China if they were just going back to the kitchen but he continued on anyway. He was surprised when they continued into the living room. Though it was a pleasant surprise to be sure, he still stopped in the doorway, watching the older country sit down on the couch and turn the bag over in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When China glanced up at him, as if asking why he hadn’t followed him into the living room, Japan nodded, “I was just…” he stuttered as his face reddened, “wondering if I should go get my tea or not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine with me aru,” China nodded simply, “If you want to drink it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan chewed the inside of his right cheek once more, unsure whether it would be more polite to get the tea or not. Finally he decided that he would get it later and stepped into the room, cautiously sitting on the couch next to China.  It was then that it struck him, perhaps harder than before, that they were enemies. This behavior- this friendship- would not be appreciated by either of their bosses. Though it seemed unlikely that China’s dragon boss would discourage it, unfortunately their outranking human leaders were much harder to convince that they weren’t conspiring to overthrow either of their governments behind closed doors. (To this Japan rolled his eyes, it was ridiculous to think such a thing. If they were conspiring their people most likely would be too, so if their bosses were really looking for signs it would be much easier to study their fellow humans.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-so,” Japan looked up, his eyes forcefully brightening, “what’s with the bag?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” China nodded, “You’re wondering why </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> bag was in Hong Kong’s room aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No-” Japan started before reconsidering, “Well,” he continued, nodding once, “Yeah maybe, why did he have it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He used to take my stuff a lot, but I’m not sure exactly why but he probably wanted to use some of it,” China explained, “but anyway, what was your original question aru?” He rested his chin on his hand, turning and smiling softly at the smaller black haired country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blushing a light pink, Japan tightened his lips together, “I-I was wondering, what’s with the bag Yao?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘What’s with it’?” China smirked, “What do you mean? It’s my medicine bag, I just found it a few days ago aru…” when Japan looked just as confused as before he blinked, “You don’t recognize it aru? I’m sure you’ve seen it before,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry I don’t remember every moment of my life,” Japan started to say, rolling his eyes. But then it struck him. He had seen this bag before, and it was exactly what China said, a medicine bag, or more accurately, a storage compartment for ingredients. “Oh wait,” Japan breathed, leaning over his friend and placing a hand on the bag, rubbing his fingers over the faintly dyed embroidery. Using his other arm as balance, pushing on China’s chest and forcing him to lie back against one of the arms of the couch, Japan squinted at the fabric. It was faded but it was the real thing, there were the same patterns, the same slightly stained black and red fabric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the smaller man’s elbow digging into his stomach China handed the bag over, pushing against the other’s arm until he was released. He sat up, “Yeah, this is the actual bag aru. I was really surprised it was still intact, I haven’t seen it in centuries…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Japan shrugged, “maybe you did but you didn’t pay attention to it…” his eyes were trained on the patterns but when he found nothing of interest there he awkwardly made eye contact and opened the bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he peered inside China just laughed, “there’s nothing in there, I already checked aru, only a couple of leaves that I can’t identify,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan nodded, mouth slightly open as he moistened his bottom lip, “So, uh,” he murmured, handing the bag back, “he couldn’t have hid it for that long right? He hasn’t been here that long…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True…” China muttered, crossing his legs and tapping the bridge of his nose with one long index finger, “he did just recently leave aru…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he just very recently became an official personification, we didn’t know that he was going to stick around much longer not so far back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> we were convinced he was a micronation just a few years ago...” Japan rolled his eyes, “I think you lost this and he found it, there is no way he could have known,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying that didn’t happen aru, in fact, that’s most likely,” China lifted one shoulder, “but it’s strange that he didn’t tell me about finding it, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t have seen you use it, he probably just thought it was all-” Japan quickly forged a wide smile for the sake of a realistic impersonation, though his eyes remained rather dead, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>hip and cool</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the smile melted away again and formed his regular expression once more, “I don’t think you could blame him, especially if you weren’t using it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True,” China yawned, eyes rolling shut as he brought a hand up to cover his face, “Sorry,” he blinked once he had finished yawning, “I’m really tired aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you tired?” Japan tilted his head to one side comically, general curiosity painting his young features, “are you not sleeping well,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s…” China shifted his lower jaw a bit and one eye twitched, “that's one way to put it aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are things stressful?” Japan’s eyebrows lowered with sincere worry, “what's wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t say exactly aru,” China sighed, eyes blurrily focused on the bag he was turning over and over in his hands. The bag wasn’t a medicine pouch or anything, it wasn’t traditional or used widely. He had just personally found it helpful in carrying plants and other things from place to place. Thinking about the past, it wasn’t until Japan stuttered a confused, ‘w-why…?’ that he shrugged and explained his first statement as simply as possible, “legal reasons, and I haven’t seen my boss in awhile,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The human?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” China shook his head, looking slightly agitated, “I’ve seen him a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I haven’t seen my regular boss in quite some time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” There was nothing that Japan could do to help with that, so silence continued as a member of their conversation for a bit longer. Finally, done with the awkward tension, he spoke up again, pressing further, “Is… is there anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China bit his lip, “You know those expressions that some Americans- or is it British people? I don’t know aru- use? The </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘someone walking on your grave’</span>
  </em>
  <span> one?” He looked over at Japan for confirmation and when he nodded, China continued, “well recently I’ve felt like that aru, just the cold shivers and stuff…” as if on cue, he shuddered, “and I feel like I’m being watched all the freaking time, I hate it aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan blushed. He knew at least partially why he felt like he was being watched, this was of course because he was being watched. Yet he resisted the urge to bring back their earlier argument and say ‘are you sure it doesn't have to do with Russia?’ or something equally as rash. “Do you… have you been ignoring those feelings or what?” he shifted his weight awkwardly, “is it Rome or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China rolled his eyes, “It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rome</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he died a long time ago. And, also, I haven't been ignoring them aru. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Usually</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I get these chills they mean something and I am NOT going to ignore my instincts, they’ve kept me alive this long, right aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again resisting the intense urge to throw Russia under the bus, Japan pressed on, “If it’s been keeping you awake you really should at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ignore them…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or I could search for why it’s been bugging me aru,” China rolled his eyes, “but either way I’m going to lose sleep over it, so why care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’ve been losing-!” But Japan deflated, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in defeat, refusing to blow up at such a useless thing. “...nevermind,” he whispered, “but you should try to sleep,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that tired aru,” China rolled his eyes, “you sound like how I must sound to you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, China gestured to the bag, “but it’s good I’ve found this, I’ve been talking with Russia a lot recently, but he just went back to his capital yesterday for a meeting with his boss, so I probably won’t see him much…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had cat ears, Japan’s would have flattened, “Russia again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, why?” China seemed genuinely confused for a moment, but then recognition seemed to hit him. Groaning, he rubbed his temples, “I told you we’ve been talking and stuff, why in hell do you care so much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he’s a reason you haven’t been sleeping well?” Japan blinked, truthfully asking, it could have been a possibility. Though he couldn’t force the two apart, as a war would start against him whoever he shoved away first, it was still important to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spluttering, China blushed bright red, “Russia aru?! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> would he be making me lose-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“いやいやいやいやいや!” Japan shook his head frantically, waving his arm violently in surrender, “Not like that! I just mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he trailed off China’s blush reddened and he shot back quickly, “What in the world could you mean by that aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Japan bit his lip, “I mean, maybe you have been talking too late at night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that would be my fault as much as his,” China was still blushing, “even if he’s curious about my medicine and stuff he still isn't’ at fault!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s what now?” Japan blinked, arms freezing next to his face. Medicine? Was it possible that Russia was making progress without the rest of their group? Had he possibly miss-heard?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interested in my medicine aru,” China repeated, the pink tone of his cheeks softening but still clear, “did you think I was going to bore him to death? I’m not interesting enough to be his friend aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No not at all! I don’t think you're boring, and I’m sure he doesn’t eithe- wait what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What what?” China frowned in return, “You aren’t making much sense KIku,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither are you!” Japan argued, “So. you mean to say that he wants to know how it works, what you can do with it, etcetera?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” China’s frown shifted into a confused but rather blank stare, “are you surprised by that aru? It’s insanely interesting if you put time into studying the subject…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it is,” Japan nodded, “So… you were looking for the bag so you could… practice or something?” He assumed this was the case. Even if the older country wasn’t going to use the bag it could still be sentimentality inspiring. And surely practice would be necessary, Japan hadn’t seen his past care-taker use the art-like magic in, well, centuries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I was,” China nodded, the blood in his cheeks having finally subsided though he still looked embarrassed and ever so slightly caught off guard. Japan took pleasure in his embarrassment. Even if he cared about the other there were still grudges being held, “he was curious so I wanted to show him how it worked, and embarrassing myself in the process didn’t sound ideal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That explanation made sense, but Japan couldn’t help but to feel a twinge of guilt. He felt like he was leading the other down a dangerous path, even if Russia was the one orchestrating how their relationship was going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Medicine that was used in place of magic, or, as England had crudely explained, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“potions by a potions master who doesn't acknowledge magic”</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The only thing China lacked from the description was his belief in magic. He believed many things, ghost stories, folk tales, and many other similar things. Yet Japan had never seen him refer to his medicine as anything further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t seem to believe that he was capable of magic… but what if he was?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N I’m so sorry this was a day late! I usually have one chapter stocked up in case I can’t write that week, but I still wrote this during second week in highschool (I was running late). Well, take ‘in’ school as a grain of salt. Anyway, have a nice day/night! A/N over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter Twenty One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N I’m sure the two people reading this would like to know why I missed two weeks of uploads. Well, for the first week I just needed a break ‘cause I had a crap-load of homework, I was going to write two chapters for the next weekend to make up for it but then… then the power went out for two days. Like, okay, it’s just power, you can still write, but you see…</p><p>The tree fell in my neighbor's yard right? Not only did it pull down power lines (they were ALL over the road btw) it pulled down the internet cable thingy so our internet was out until Sunday! (I was actually in Vermont on Sunday, at my aunt’s house, so I was able to write this chapter, but I couldn’t share it ‘cause I was on my school chromebook and you better bet they don’t allow Ao3, Fanfiction.net, or Wattpad.)</p><p>Also, there is a reference to a past sex scene. Just wanted to warn you. A/N over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Twenty One</b>
</p><p>Japan, Russia, Canada and America had recently met with each other for work related reasons.</p><p>For some reason, Japan wasn’t really sure why, he was quite happy in Russia’s capital city. Normally he had a sort of itching sensation whenever he was in another country's capital and he had a sneaking suspicion it was the same for many of his friends. For example, America’s overbearing nationalism often out-shown any sort of country related dysphoria but there were still signs of it. Japan assumed that he always felt this way because of safety issues, probably because he felt as though he could be attacked at any moment, which was untrue. Maybe the instinct was amplified because he was older and it was more true in the past?</p><p>Whatever the case, Japan had been sure to compliment Russia on the city, the buildings, the art, the new-ish McDonalds even. (He had noticed that Russia was rather proud of the last one and Japan was almost certain it was just because of the freedom it represented.) There were some very colorful rooftops, some with amazing archways, some without…</p><p>Now, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been to Moscow before, no, he had been to this place a number of times in the past, this one just felt vaguely… different. There was a hint of hope in the air and as much as the loneliness of his family leaving his house seemed to rule his personality Japan could tell that Russia was happy to have let the Soviet Union go. He felt faintly glad that Russia was free too, knowing what that type of control felt like and what it could do to a person, how could he not be happy for the other?</p><p>There were signs of the ‘old way’ of life here, it would go away quickly, but the people, the plant life, the sky, everything seemed hopeful.</p><p>And it seemed that Canada felt the same way, when he had talked to the elusive country there had been the sparkle in his eyes. That instinctive preparation for a better future. It was nearly always there with America, seeing as he was more of an ideology than a country, though he represented the land too. That glow. Japan appreciated this glow, the golden, violet, blue, and every bit of gray in his own eyes. If he did not have some hope for his people, for his future, his eyes were solid black.</p><p>For other people, like Russia or Switzerland whose eyes were naturally shiny and attention grabbing colors, they switched to a matte, blank space. Japan had rarely seen the more ‘progressive’ nations with such eyes, and rarely the less ‘progressive’ ones with hope. Russia’s eyes quite literally glowed on their own accord but Japan knew this was probably from the ghosts that were so near to him. (Supposably anyway, the Asian personification couldn’t see them himself.)</p><p>The hope was something you could feel but not touch.</p><p>There was a thrilling aspect to that kind of idea. That kind of thing, the kind that drew humans, personifications, and monsters alike forward. Even if it was arguable that money did this more extremely Japan knew it was from the changing world, as only that could influence such feelings so deeply ingrained in everyone’s heads.</p><p>It was true, the older you were the more likely these obvious things would have dulled visibly, even though they were still stronger inside of you. That was why he so often looked blank, even when things were good. He had climbed from the literal rubble of his cities. Stood above destruction like no other. He knew what the future of war would be, and that was why he was glad that the USSR had collapsed.</p><p>No more power struggle with weapons powerful enough to wipe out entire American states.</p><p>At least for now.</p><p>He did not want to be around when such a thing started again. But no one else had felt the pain he had, no one had experienced the terror. He felt that it was his job, and his job alone if no one else cared, to protect the people of every nation from that fear, and so he stuck around.</p><p>--------------- ------ ----- ----  ---  ---    --     -      -      -             -                      -</p><p>America rolled the Big Mac over in his hand. There was still the American charm to the food, the puffiness of the bread, the taste. It was the same physically but he knew that Russia felt as though it represented something. The freedom from his past.</p><p>Though he couldn’t relate on that same level, thank God, he knew what freedom felt like after fighting for it for so long. Things weren’t perfect in his home and he knew that.</p><p>The blond <em> accepted </em> the mistakes in his government. That hatred towards people who were ‘different’ even though he was supposed to be the epitome of freedom. He hated the way people were treated, LGBTQ people, women, different religions, and any race other than white. He hated this. It was supposed to be free. <em> He </em>was supposed to be the most happy, most supportive and, though narcissistic, the best place to live.</p><p>And he knew that his people could do better than they were.</p><p>He knew it. He trusted their intuition, trusted his government to make bad choices, trusted his people to rectify those mistakes and for the government to continue off of the citizen’s example. That was the point of his ideology, to build people up into comfortable living. Everyone. To build everyone into safety, to drag the poor out of poverty, to…</p><p>But his internal monologue stopped and he raised his head. What the hell was he doing? This was Russia’s accomplishment, not that he would ever tell the other this, not after their… <em> history </em> together.</p><p>But this thought was also slowed, interrupted this time by the person he was thinking about. He had entered the McDonalds and was now looking around, a curiously conscious expression on his face. He looked tentative to be in the building (and rightly so, it looked as though he had skipped the long-ass line to enter the building judging by the angry faces of the humans around him). He was looking around, clearly intent of finding something. America was almost tempted to stand up and tell him that if he wanted food he would have to go to the counter, which was quite easy to find.</p><p>Yet he surprised the American, seemingly recognizing his jacket and making eye contact before making a beeline over to his former ally’s booth.</p><p>The Russian sat down, leaving a wave of confused expression on the human’s in his wake. His coat had not been removed, even though it wasn’t cold out at the moment. His scarf was still on, flowing behind him due to his quick movement. It covered a scar that was on his neck, few people other than America and Russia’s sisters knew this.</p><p>Alfred felt his face heating up. He didn’t want to think about that scar, not before a conversation with the man who was attached to it, not ever. (He still didn’t know where it came from, but just thinking about…)</p><p>Shuddering, America almost didn’t notice when Russia sat down. The semi-European man cleared his throat, properly getting his attention.</p><p>Russia felt some level of embarrassment radiating off of the other and he could clearly see the blush that the American tried so hard to hide by turning his face. Drumming leather-gloved fingers on the table, the silver haired man waited for a response to his actions. He didn’t know if he wanted to be congratulated for becoming free, didn’t know why he had even chosen to talk with the other, he just knew he had too. He didn’t expect a congratulation, Americans were always like that after all, self-centered and nationalistic. But right now he was too nervous to hide… well, his nervousness.</p><p>So he was surprised when America cleared his throat, his face still turned away as he held a Bic Mac up to shield even more of his features from the Russian’s view, “Well, butter my ass and call me a biscuit,” America breathed, involuntarily using the southern expression, “you... did it!”</p><p>He turned to face his surprised companion, the blush that had dusted his face now settled only on his nose and the very inner parts of his cheeks, “and here I thought,” he laughed awkwardly and some of the blush came creeping back, “here I was thinkin’ that <em> I </em> was runnin’ over Hell’s half acre while you were…” he gestured around, “doing this for pete’s sake!”</p><p>Russia smiled, he didn’t understand half of what the blond had said, but it sounded kind, “I appreciate it,” he purred, shutting his eyes in both gratitude and relief.</p><p>“You’d be darn tootin’!” America huffed, crossing his arms and turning his head away once more, “this is one hell of an improvement from when I was last here!”</p><p>Russia smiled apologetically, “Oh?” He remembered now, though America usually spoke in a Jersey or New York accent, occasionally throwing in that California or Boston flair, the Southern half of his personality would always show through when he was embarrassed. It was a pretty handy tool, much easier than trying to recognize China’s emotions though vague expressions and posture, especially when neither were present one hundred percent of the time. “So it…” Russia swallowed, “I look okay?”</p><p>America knew he was referring to the city, to the land itself and it’s new freedom but he found it hard not to stare at the personification’s human form, “fine as frog hair split five ways!” he exclaimed. It wasn’t an exaggeration, human body or land. The city looked great, the people looked great, “a-slso!” Alfred tried to draw the Russian’s attention away from the direct complement, “this place is hoppin’! I thought I would never get my food!”</p><p>Russia nodded slowly, he had caught that complement, not quite sure what it meant, but he had caught it, “Some people were waiting hours last year…”</p><p>“Yeah no shit!” America laughed, earning a few confused expressions from the cashiers, all of whom could understand him at least mildly, “If I was here when it opened I would have…” he swiped his hand through the air, making a swooshing sound with his mouth to represent moving quickly, “like that!”</p><p>Russia laughed, the nervousness from both of them had seemed to have mostly melted off, “The lines on the first day…” he smiled warmly off into space, just remembering.</p><p>“Really really long, right?” America smiled kindly, “and it’s been a few years too…”</p><p>“Well,” Russia shrugged, “only two or three…”</p><p>“A couple then,” America nodded, “There are so many of these things at my place-” he stopped himself suddenly and blushed, “well, you know that…”</p><p>Russia nodded too, “O-of course, but why-”</p><p>“It was nothing,” America shook his head, “I’m just amazed that this is one of the things that stopped our war…”</p><p>“Americans will be Americans,” Russia offered, trying not to sound offensive. </p><p>To his relief, America just laughed, “That’s fair, and plus, I’m glad that this place is here, and plumb full of food! Seriously, this is the best possible outcome,”</p><p>Russia blushed, “Glad you like it,”</p><p>America didn’t respond at first, taking a few bites from his sandwich. And the air of uncertainty descended on them once more. Russia looked down at his feet, rubbing his gloved hands together and biting his lip. America tapped his heel rapidly on the floor, something that Russia remembered him doing a lot in meetings where they were discussing truly serious topics. He was extroverted, that was for sure, but he was scared of a lot of things.</p><p>One of those things just so happened to be conversations with Russia, which was fair, most people he knew were scared of him.</p><p>“I…” America started, putting his burger down on the table and staring at his neatly folded hands, “you… you know why it’s awkward between us.”</p><p>Not even surprised that he had cut straight to the point, Russia sighed, “the war…”</p><p>But America shook his head, his words coming short and constricted, “more than that,” Russia understood. Their… love, if it could be called that. In truth the relationship had been more of an acceptance of each other's presence and a few extra <em> steps </em>.</p><p>Sweaty movements, a coat long forgotten flung onto a desk, a scarf ripped off his neck by two pairs of hands (one of them his own), four leather gloves tossed haphazardly to the side, gentle hands running through hair… Russia shuddered just thinking about going back to the way they were. Trying to get the thought out of his head he looked up, “I… I wanted to apologize for…” he trailed off into a whisper, “for everything.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize,” America shook his head violently, his cheeks sprinkled with pink, “don’t.”</p><p>Another silence descended upon the pair but this time it was different. The space between them felt farther and the quiet felt sad instead of awkward. Alfred’s foot had stopped tapping and the drumming of Russia’s fingers slowed. It felt as though Alfred wanted to say something else, something to fill the space, a few words that would ease their fears.</p><p>America stuttered, looking up again and forcing a sad, sad smile, “You know what Ivan?”</p><p>Russia looked up at the mention of his human name. People didn’t tend to say it all that much, and although he definitely preferred his actual title to the simple word it was still sweet to hear. After a beat of appreciating the smile that held America’s mouth in place, Russia coughed and raised his shoulders, “W-what is it?” </p><p>He had turned his eyes away. As much as this conversation was making him happy in that nostalgic way he couldn’t help but feel dirty for it. There was no sense to his guilt, he was single, there was no one he was interested in… well, interested in publicly. So though it was true that America was beautiful, with his pleasantly ruffled hair and scuffed up boots there was something homey about him. But Russia didn’t like him. America wasn’t a person he trusted just as much as he wasn’t a person America trusted.</p><p>It would have been a real shame sixty or so years ago, when they at least mildly got along as friends, or slightly more than that. But now… Russia had moved on.</p><p>America shook his head and whispered, sounding ashamed, “It’s nothing.”</p><p>Russia took in a shaky breath, about to apologize, say something, anything that would make that sad look come off of the other nations face. He usually liked seeing his fellow nations without smiles, especially if he was the cause of that other expression but this was not like that. He felt distressed, mostly because internally he was aware there was nothing he could do.</p><p>America shrugged, his voice high pitched and blank, though distantly choked, “but… but if we could go back to how we were before the recent, uh…” he cleared his throat and crossed his arms, turning away and staring intensely at a wall in a vain attempt to hide his emotions, “the war, I would…”</p><p>His voice died and he shook his head. At this point Russia wasn’t sure why the American was feeling such intense emotions but he got the point. He understood what America was trying to say.</p><p>
  <em> “I would be able to love you again.” </em>
</p><p>Sure, they had stopped seeing each other on some truly nasty terms but Russia almost felt as if this reaction was... over the top? Extreme? They had never reached a ‘love’ or ‘appreciation’ stage. Their ‘relationship’ hadn’t really been about that. So why the hell did America sound so sad? Was it angry? Or was it a mix between the two, maybe an entirely different emotion?</p><p>Seeing the slight confusion and annoyance in Russia’s eyes America quickly stood, wrapping up his burger and grabbing his drink. Putting his wallet into his pocket, the blond pointed at Russia’s eyes, causing him to jump.</p><p>“Violet,” he said, the soda in his hand sloshing inside the cup.</p><p>Then he withdrew his hand and pointed to his own eyes, “Blue.” His arm dropped and Russia binked, now more confused than ever.</p><p>“Everyone has their secrets,” America shook his head, “mine just happens to be unsolvable,” he tipped his head, “unlike China’s,”</p><p>Russia swallowed at the sudden mention of his friend’s name. He had been trying his darndest not to think about the brunet while speaking with America. It just felt low to give them both attention, even though he was entirely entitled to talking with people.</p><p>“Maybe one day you’ll get it, maybe one day you won’t,” America smiled sadly before wiggling his fingers in a sort of wave, “bye Ivan!”</p><p>Russia watched him leave the McDonalds before looking around at the tables around him suspiciously, eyeing anyone who looked like they might now English. Luckily everyone seemed to be busy with their food, although they might have just known well enough not to interrupt. He bit the inside of his cheek, hands gripping his knees tightly. How was he supposed to feel? What did America mean by that last thing?</p><p>There were so many questions swirling around in his head.</p><p>--------------- ------ ----- ----  ---  ---    --     -      -      -             -                      -</p><p>There was no snow hitting the windows, not even the whooshing of wind in the rafters of his house. It was quiet except for the clock ticking on the wall and his own humming.</p><p>Russia had no idea when he had picked up this habit of humming when he was thinking hard but it filled up some of the emptiness where he lived so it felt pleasant and he hadn’t stopped. Plus, background noise was always helpful when he was thinking, the louder the better to a point. Maybe it was the way he had grown up, maybe not.</p><p>He was mentaly weighing his options.</p><p>On one hand sat America, a strong, overbearing, nationalistic teen who only had a bit under three hundred years of life under his belt. It wasn’t the blonde’s fault that he was young, in fact his escape from being an English colony was quite impressive, but it was still something to think about. Russia had known America for almost as long as France or England had, though he had not been influential in the slightest.</p><p>But on the other hand was China, a strong, overbearing, nationalistic-</p><p>Russia paused. He actually had no clue what age China was physically, and it was especially hard to tell because the entire time Russia had known China he had looked the same, so there was no comparison to be made. Maybe that was the problem with being five thousand years old. Years, decades, even centuries blended together both in memory and in looks.</p><p>In truth, the first time that Russia had spoken with Egypt he thought that the man might have been the same age as China. The African country’s history stretched back far enough so it felt possible that they were a similar age. Because of this it came as quite a shock when Egypt had mentioned his mother, ‘ancient’ Egypt. Apparently she had been the first one, the one with all the pyramids that humans marveled at. She had probably talked to China, or at least spoken with someone who had talked to China at some point.</p><p>The world was very different without the ability to send mail without the risk that the messenger would die within the first month or so of their journey.</p><p>Russia blinked and sat up, his humming stopping. Where had he been going with this train of thought? He bit his lip, thinking hard before it finally popped back into his head.</p><p>“Очевидно..!” he exclaimed under his breath. He had been comparing America and China. What was it that Alfred had said today?</p><p>“Violet… blue…” Russia muttered in heavily accented English, pointing to his own eyes and a hypothetical America’s eyes as he repeated it, “my secrets are more worthy than you,” he finished.</p><p>He knew that that wasn’t really what America had said but it felt that way, if he was going to mention a secret he should have at least laughed or sounded less sad than he ended up sounding, it had almost worried Russia. </p><p>Worried? What the hell had becoming friends with China turned him into? Someone who felt emotions?</p><p>“Нет нет нет нет…” Russia murmured. It was okay if he felt emotions, so far it had helped him greatly at both speaking with his friend and visiting countries that were warmer than his own. Both of those things were very welcome, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about feeling emotions towards America other than anger and annoyance.</p><p>America had mentioned a secret and Russia was actively trying to figure out what China was hiding. For some odd reason he felt as though the secrets were related, but that was only grabbing at straws to find an excuse to stalk both of them. Perhaps calling it stalking was a bit harsh but he couldn’t for the life of him call it research at this point. It was more than that.</p><p>He truly cared about China, his sly smile, those captivating golden eyes, the gradually changing expressions and every constant emotion in his voice. It was more than curiosity about something he wasn’t supposed to know at this point, it was way more than that. This was more of a curiosity about how far their rekindling friendship could take him.</p><p>He had to make a decision between chasing after America’s secret or China’s. At this point America’s was more intriguing but when he thought about China… A stray touch of their hands here and there, phone calls into the early hours of the morning, and how time seemed to pass so painfully quickly whenever they were together.</p><p>The choice was clear, there was no way Russia could go back to America, not when China was so close. Not when he was so close to being cared about.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N Hope the sudden RusAme wasn’t too jarring, but it is absolutely necessary for the plot!  I’m going to be straying a bit from the plan I had because I’ve gotten some new ideas since I first wrote it. </p><p>*I said LGBTQ instead of lgbtqa+ because of the time period. A/N over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter Twenty Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A/N This is *the cruddiest* chapter I’ve ever written and, from all of your perspectives it’s nearly two months late. For me this is one week less late. The thing is I forgot to mention that I was going to be changing my schedule to every other week to manage school work. Also more importantly I write this on a Google Document that was previously accessible from my school chromebook (because I don’t have other computers except the family one) but my school blocked all usage of other accounts so I can’t really write in anymore.</p><p>...jokes on them though I transferred the google document to my school account. Now they can’t escape from my RoChu angst and RusAme hentai bait! Obviously that's a joke but it is on my school account now.</p><p>Another thing, I rewrote some of my plan because I added some ✨things✨ to the AU. A/N over.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>Chapter Twenty Two</b>
</h3><p>Cuba put down the flower he had been rolling over between his fingers, looking up at Canada and squinting at his face.</p><p>A few months had passed since Canada had been in Russia and there was still that curious gleam in his eyes. Cuba got along with Russia very well, even if the man who represented the country was more than a little mentaly <em> off </em>. He certainly knew how Canada felt about the newer editions to the city, it was both impressive and inspiring.</p><p>Canada seemed to notice Cuba staring for the first time and smiled awkwardly, “you know, it’s okay that you punched me, I know that I look rather like my brother…”</p><p>Cuba bit his lip, he had nearly forgotten about that. He had come to Canada’s house, it was still quite cold to him even though it was summer in the northern nation. Even though he had shown up to Canada’s house he had immediately punched the blond out of reflex, thinking of course that he was his younger and way more annoying brother America.</p><p>Canada laughed, the awkwardness in his voice more intense, “Seriously, it’s fine,” his voice was quiet but audible over the sound of the heater running in a back room. (He had turned it on so that Cuba wouldn’t, in his words, ‘freeze to death’.)</p><p>It was true, Cuba hated the cold (it wasn’t like it didn’t get cold in his own country, he just hated the low temperatures). Warmth meant more travelers and more money and more money meant he could become more powerful and more independent. It was what all of them wanted really (or at least what he hoped everyone wanted because he didn’t want to be going about becoming powerful the wrong way.)</p><p>Power was a touchy subject in their friendship.</p><p>It didn’t matter how overwhelming and overbearing America was because if you dug just the tiniest bit deeper Canada was right there, a stunning ‘zero wars lost’ at his right and a right to use weapons on his left. Cuba wasn’t… forgotten. He wasn’t weak, that was for certain (in fact he had relatively won in his last little spat with the American) but he was still clearly, uncomfortably, far behind.</p><p>Thoughts strayed as he noticed that Canada was fidgeting again, he reached forward and brushed a stray hair out of his friend’s pale face. Canada looked up, a small and inquisitive smile teasing his lips. At the questioning expression Cuba laughed softly, distantly sadly even, “it was in your face, did I disrupt you?”</p><p>Canada shook his head the quiet smile on his face now a much clearer (yet still soft) expression, “I was spacing out, I don’t mind if you move annoying strips of hair out of my face Carlos,”</p><p>He wasn’t taken about by the use of his name, in fact it was appreciated. Instead he closed his eyes, rubbing the stray curls of black hair that stuck out from the back of his neck, “except that curl, right?”</p><p>It was Mathew’s turn to laugh, now nearly crossing his eyes to glance up at his hair curl. If he had been trying to hide his amusement the strand would have betrayed him as it uncurled very slightly into a looser curl, a sure sign of comfort. Instead he smiled, looking forward again with that odd and hopeful glint still gleaming in his eyes, “Except the curl,”</p><p>“Of course M<em> a </em> thw <em> ew </em>,” Cuba twirled a stray hair before snapping it off at the base, hoping to stop further fidgeting. Canada only just masked a giggle at the way his accent curved around the word, almost enunciating it. It wasn’t funny really, just unexpected due to their very sparse use of the names that typically wouldn’t be shared around. They were, after all, a very main tie to humanity in many of their people’s minds. (This was, of course, because it made them more like the non-representation population, which must have been comforting to them, no matter how small the similarity.)</p><p>Cuba rolled the flower between his fingertips again before placing it on the counter, leaning against the air that backed the stool he was perched on with a yawn. Seeming surprised and fittingly worried Canada blinked, sitting up straighter, “are you tired? Should I leave you to go take a nap?”</p><p>No matter how nice a nap sounded, Cuba wanted to keep talking to his friend. Plus, he wasn’t even that tired. A little jet lag wasn’t much, he had endured much worse in the past. Still it was kind of the Canadian to offer him such a thing. (Though wasn’t all of what the Canadian did kind?) </p><p>“I’m fine,” Cuba smiled, patting Canada’s hand when the blond pouted, “Seriously.”</p><p>The North American blew air out of his nose, the sound coming slightly from the left in Cuba’s mind. (Perhaps he was tired if he was hearing such odd specifics.) “If you say so,” Canada chewed his lip thoughtfully, “if- if you are sure you aren’t tired then stay here, but please don’t push yourself if you want to sleep…”</p><p>“You are too caring,” Cuba muttered, the tone of his voice dangerously sad, “someday someone will take advantage of that part of you,”</p><p>“Someday,” Canada echoed, his words sounding forlorn and yet full of light, “though I do this because it keeps me safe,”</p><p>Cuba raised an eyebrow, not minding as his friend slid off of his chair, quickly running over to the other side of the island counter, “it keeps you safe?”</p><p>“Yes, of course it does-” Canada laughed, cutting his own statement off with a quick ‘do you want some juice or something? I have water and tea too’ to which Cuba gestured vaguely to the coffee machine, “it’s kept me alive so far,” </p><p>His hands flew over the buttons and functions of the small machine, pausing in his speech to focus on the movement. When he was finished he turned back to his dark-haired friend, smiling sadly, “when people can’t be trusted you force them to trust you. Past a mutual trust that is all you can do, right?”</p><p>Cuba nodded, cheek rested on his hand, “True, and I suppose it’s worked for you?”</p><p>“If you could not dying yet as ‘working’ it has,” Canada laughed, the tittering sound seeming out of place in their so-suddenly-sad conversation. His feet paced closer, the rubber bottoms of his converse sneakers squeaking against the (apparently) freshly cleaned floor. Cuba’s head followed, neither of them speaking out of politeness.</p><p>When he was around the counter once more Canada plopped down onto his stool again, the unpleasant noise it may have made quickly covered up by more words, “even if I regret betrayal-” he sighed here, before continuing, sounding almost unrealistically poetic, “-as we resort to in the most dangerous of times- if it means living another day to be truly kind to someone, no matter how little they remember me, I think it’s worth it,”</p><p>Cuba blinked with a certain agreement, the gentle hum of the coffee maker making up for his inicial silence, “A lot of words to convey the idea that being nice to people is more important than human ties,”</p><p>Canada laughed- really, truly laughed, “Well,” he stuttered on air, “the two kind of go hand in hand, and being nice to people is human ties-”</p><p>Shaking his head with bemusement Cuba half-laughed-half-whispered, “You know I know that Mathew,”</p><p>“Of course,” Canada smiled.</p><p>Their silence next wasn’t a bother. It wasn’t like there were no noises, it wasn’t like they were without each other, without a friend. The coffee trickled into the cup, giving off a pungent smell that was always vaguely reminiscent of the morning time. The clinking of someone’s windchimes outside, the ever present ticking of an off-time digital clock, the gentle humming of a load of laundry in the washing machine.</p><p>It was pleasant here.</p><p>It wasn’t home, but it was pleasant. Homey in a way that one’s own house could never seem. The way a grandmother’s wallpaper felt after it faded, the brownish-oranges of carved analog clocks that had stopped decades before. A comfort that he wished he could find in his own bustling, energized, and yet constantly fearful, nation.</p><p>Friendship. </p><p>That was the word. Not allies... not comrades... not any of that. Just friends who cared for one another. The purest type of love, even beyond siblings. Just strangers who met in some forgotten past place that just <em> got </em> each other. No romantic attraction, just care.</p><p>Cuba felt at home here.</p><p>Softly, though louder than the sound itself, the whirring and dripping of the coffee came to a stop. Cuba watched as Canada stood calmly, though not careful, not poised as they were meant to be in dangerous times, not as they were thought to be due to their political existences.</p><p>There was a calm in his eyes now, almost like he didn’t need the crushing (though welcome) hope for a new era, a better future. All he needed was the reassurance of safety. Cuba didn’t even have to wonder to know that what they all needed was this. Calm. An era of calm, that was what he hoped for, even if he still fought for power.</p><p>Canada flipped the plastic covering of the machine off, peeking inside to see if there was still water. Then, just as robotically, he closed it once more, seeming to be satisfied with the amount of liquid inside. Looking back at his friend, the pale Canadian smiled, his eyes now lighting up with happiness, “I’ll get you your drink, eh?”</p><p>Before Cuba knew it they were two hours in the future, laughing and talking in their respective loud (and in Canada’s case still rather quiet) voices.</p><p>“...you know, I think I trust you more than I could ever trust my family,” Canada was laughing, hand swirling a cup of orange juice around near the counter’s edge, “though I guess that’s not a surprise to you, considering your relations with Alfred…”</p><p>Cuba laughed, not even minding the reference to the other blond, “trust me friend, I trust you more than the American, or the Brit- if you are considered family?”</p><p>Canada shrugged and downed a swig of his drink, “It’s complicated,” he clacked the plastic cup back onto the table, “we aren’t family in the way people are, but it’s certainly not devoid of that type of love,”</p><p>“Brotherly love?”</p><p>“Nah,” Canada shook his head laughing, “not brotherly, more like… ah, how do you say it, ‘I took care of you for a long time’? Something like that?”</p><p>Cuba waved his hand in a jokingly dismissive way, “whatever, I still trust you more than him, him and his magic…”</p><p>Canada smirked before, raising his hand to his mouth and letting a gentle yawn escape through his fingers, when he put his hand down again the smirk was still there, “Magic? I thought you could teleport!”</p><p>“Hey!” Cuba exclaimed with a laugh, “Not much! He can, you know,” his hands waved in big circles as if trying to draw the words he was saying. “Demons and things, it’s freaking creepy!”</p><p>Canada nearly snorted into his drink, which he had picked up again in an attempt to calmly drink the rest, “Do you often see this, I don’t see you around him much, do all of you people with magic meet up on Wednesdays to compare your powers?”</p><p>“Nah,” Cuba shook his head, leaning his elbows against the cold counter-top, “but we totally should, I don’t think anyone else can outright teleport, though I doubt Japan could easily show his powers…”</p><p>Blinking, Canada showed genuine interest and partal confusion, “Japan? What can he do?”</p><p>“Clairvoyance is kinda his thing,” Cuba rolled his eyes, earring a soft ‘oh you’ from his friend at the sarcastic nature of his actions, “I would think you would know that?’</p><p>“I don’t really talk to him much, and never about magic,” Canada explained, taking only a moment to hold back a teasing giggle before he continued, “anyone else I wouldn’t think about?”</p><p>“Plenty,” Cuba spread his arms wide enough to lay against the counter, clunking the rubber heel of his shoe against the leg of his chair, “I- uh, you know about Moldova and Romania right?”</p><p>“That much I do know,” Canada rolled his eyes and rested his cheek on his right forearm (which was now layed out on the cold counter-top), “Mind if you give me something more inconspicuous than <em> actual vampires </em>?”</p><p>Holding back his own soft giggle, Cuba thought a little bit harder, “how about Russia or Belerus? Did you know they could talk to ghosts?”</p><p>“I didn’t,” Canada shivered, “though it certainly explains some things about Russia that I have been wondering for years…”</p><p>“Well, it’s mostly Belerus who does it, Russia’s always focused on other things or too unfocused to pay attention to their voices,”</p><p>Remembering what Belerus was like, Canada shivered, understanding some things about the <em> younger </em>angry silver-blond as well. “That makes sense, but do you have anyone else? Anyone who makes less sense?”</p><p>Cuba thought for a moment, rubbing his stubbly chin with the back of his hand, “...Well,” he finally started, “not less sense because of historical ties but I’ve heard that China’s pretty good at potions,”</p><p>For a second it felt like Canada’s heart had stopped beating in his chest.</p><p>So, even without knowing about his group’s investigation, Cuba thought it possible that China (at least at some point) knew some basic magic. He was so terrified he almost didn’t hear Cuba’s next sentence.</p><p>“...but I’ve never seen any physical proof, and you know that proof is pretty important when determining something quite as vague as ‘having magic’...”</p><p>Maybe the sentence continued, maybe it didn’t. Whatever the case it didn’t matter as Canada cut his friend off, trying (and succeeding) to not sound rude with the intrusion, “What potions do you think he could make?”</p><p>Clearly not minding the interruption, Cuba shrugged, seemingly having not noticed Canada’s specific interest, “I’m not sure, but I’d assume some sort of healing, as that is what ties that type of magic to history after all,”</p><p>“Healing…” Canada echoed.</p><p>Did… did <em> that </em> count as healing? I hardly could, right?</p><p>“..though I might be wrong,” Cuba was continuing, “I’ve never seen it before, so I wouldn’t know for sure, though my second guess would be some sort of transformation potion, kinda like the one’s fantasy witches use to make themselves look younger,”</p><p>Despite, or maybe because of, his slight panic and now jumbled thoughts Canada managed to smile at this, “Are you accusing China of making himself look younger using magic?”</p><p>His mind was racing, searching for possible answers, possible paths to take. In the background he heard Cuba laughing, denying that any such accusation was in place, that he just meant that-</p><p>“...functions can be changed,” Cuba was laughing, “I mean, it’s been documented before, you can even see it in some magical creatures like vampires and werewolves. The human body isn’t bonded to what it was originally created as if you mess around with it, especially with magic,”</p><p>Functions could be changed.</p><p><em> Functions could be changed </em>.</p><p>“Uh,” Canada pretended to be innocently confused even though he felt like his heart was beating at twice the speed of light, “what do you mean by that?”</p><p>Cuba blinked, “Did I mix around words?” He blushed, his accent becoming the slightest, smallest detectable bit thicker with embarrassment, “I do that sometimes when I’m excited…”</p><p>“A-ah, no, no I’m just being…” Canada circled a finger around his ear, calling himself crazy instead of stupid, “I just didn’t-”</p><p>“Understand?” Cuba looked relieved but tried to hide it behind a mask of sarcastic, pouty, annoyance. His expression flipped around into a friendly smile once more, “I just mean that with the right factors it’s not that hard to change things about a human body, especially if it’s as fleeting and oddly put together as ours,”</p><p>Canada nodded, he knew what the Cuban meant. Their bodies were recognizably human. They had all the features, all the odd limbs and quirks, bone and muscle, all of that. Still, it was not secret that their bodies could heal at a rate that humans could not. Wounds hurt still, even death, if one of them was unlucky enough to briefly experience it, still hurt. The difference was that because a physical death did not stop their actual lives (even if it cut in a brief pause where they did not experience life) their bodies would heal any wounds, no matter how serious.</p><p>Their forms were always changing, always shifting as old scars forced themselves to disappear. It was completely within the realm of possibility that something as powerful as magic could force their human features to change, internal or external.</p><p>“Interesting,” the Canadian managed to choke out, his odd speech causing his friend to look worried.</p><p>“Oh,” Cuba tittered, leaning forward and placing a hand on Canada’s shoulder as if to steady him, “I should have warned you about ‘body horror’ shouldn’t I?”</p><p>Canada stuttered into speech, happy but surprised by the amount of worry Cuba had in his eyes, “I-I- yes, I, um, I guess so,”</p><p>Before the Cuban could apologize Canada held up his hand, “It’s fine Carlos, I just, you know, it’s...“ It was surprisingly difficult to lie about being afraid of things like this as he knew it was truly a serious problem for some people. Still, Cuba interpreted the embarrassed worry in his eyes as partially suppressed fear.</p><p>“I won’t talk about that any more, okay?” His voice was thick and soothing and as much as Canada wanted to beg him to speak more he knew that he couldn’t. He couldn’t for the sake of keeping the act up.</p><p>So instead all he could do was swallow driely, “oh… I... okay,”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N This wasn’t a very good chapter, I couldn’t really focus and all the descriptions are a bit… uh… overbearing. I listened to the HTTYD 1 soundtrack while writing this, I wonder if you could tell.</p><p>....oOH MY GOD SEASON SeVEn- aAAAAa  (I even made an animation meme to celebrate!) https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/440671822/ AAAAAA A/N over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter Twenty Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N the last chapter was kinda crummy and also late so this one is one of two in the same week. (Or is it even two chapters? The first one is hella short. *1600 something words, which is about a thousand less than usual) A/N over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Twenty Three</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Fingers tapped nervously on plastic phone keys, dialing a number that had only recently become a contact, (or rather, just a thing he found himself calling more-often-than-was-pleasant) Mathew found himself humming an off-key version of the “Jaws” theme song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was eight at night. Cuba had turned in for bed an hour earlier, feeling utterly exhausted from his plane flight. (It wasn’t that the times were different, but the flight had really been getting to him and, no matter how comfortable he felt in his friend’s home, the national differences were hitting.) So there Canada sat, one shoe on and the other in the dining room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The couch in his living room was nice, soft, not too scratchy… everything to be hoped for in such an object. That’s why he was now sitting here… wait, was this considered rambling?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head to clear the already scattered thoughts, he pressed ‘dial’ and waited. At first, there was only the buzzing vibration of the dial tone. He was in a slightly painiced state, his energy from the middle of his and Cuba’s conversation coming back after his friend had gone off to bed. He had been barely suppressing the urge to ask about magic that Cuba had no further information on for nearly an hour until they had parted ways for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he had nothing specific at all this outsider view/confirmation was more than welcome. He was aware that they were chasing nothing, that there could be no ‘winner’ or ‘loser’. There was no good outcome he could think of in his mind. Either they would be wrong and China would be pissed or they would be right and China would be significantly more pissed. (Considering that his friend, Russia, would have worked behind his back to find very personal information and share it with his mortal enemies, Canada understood this.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about it, Canada grimaced, almost feeling sorry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What a world we live in,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he thought, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>enemies joining together to hunt down the personal life of a man who is both equipped with nuclear weapons and also surprisingly trigger-happy,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He sat up straighter, waiting for the phone to finish dialing, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>but for what reason?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” his thoughts broke through again, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s certainly not personal gain, there isn’t anything in it for us… are we just bored</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...That was probably the correct assumption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally there was a ‘click’ and the Canadian’s ears caught the humming of background noise. His eyebrows raised, had England picked up or…? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Great Britain can not be here at the moment, if you wish you may call back later or leave a message,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> the recorded audio of the Brit’s voice crackled painfully out of the plastic and metal speaker and Mathew could almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> his blood pressure rising, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>...this recording will end presently.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” there was a soft, mechanical ‘beep’ and then the phone was silent again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God fucking damn it England,” Canada’s seethed, his near-growl of a voice coming out much louder even as he tried to drown out his adrenaline, “I need you to pick up, I NEED you to pick up before I die of congested blood valves,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t exactly certain what congested blood valves were, or even if they existed, but it didn’t matter. He was too hyper-focused on getting this information off of his hands, “I don’t care if it’s one in the fucking morning this is more important than your godamn beauty rest!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really was one in the morning in the UK wasn’t it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Canada softly cursed himself, turning off his phone and leaning back against the soft, puffy back of his couch. His eyes stared unseeingly upward, focusing on the light that was still on, but not directly so. He felt like he might cry, not from sadness or even anger but from the inability to hold in his excitement. Well, his fear in the form of excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t going to leave a recording, that was for damn certain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to hear how England reacted to the news (seeing his face would be even better but since there was an ocean and a painful flight in the way audio would have to do). He was especially curious because England knew magic and, though he would never say it to his friend’s face, Cuba wasn’t exactly the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowledgeable</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the general subject. Sure, he could teleport, which was its own </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> of an ability, but that wasn’t magic in the same way that charms and curses and all the rest were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anything, Canada felt as though they should have been talking to Norway or Japan for reasons separate from one another. They hadn’t actually talked to Norway about any of this yet, which Canada felt odd about since the near-equally cold nation had an extensive knowledge on specifically </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span> magic. Yeah, Arthur knew a lot, but Norway knew other types of magic. Other types of magic than the rigid English style.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Japan, on the other hand, had not even occurred to Canada as an important subject in this investiagation (which now sounded incredibly stupid since Japan had known China for the longest). In truth the short, black-haired man hadn’t really contributed a lot to their research. (Not that Canada would ever say this in a mean way, after all until now- or until England picked up the GODDAMN PHONE- Matt hadn’t done anything either.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, according to Cuba, Japan also had magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Canada had not been made aware of this. Yes, it was more than possible that the other’s had forgotten to tell him, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence actually. Still, it felt… off. This wasn’t an accusation, no no, far from it. He trusted the Asian country, even if they had been at war so recently. Japan </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> given them anime after all. Maybe it was judgemental but he still felt as though his brother’s friend was hiding something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. He almost laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hiding something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a popular topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe the other’s had caught on to it or maybe they hadn’t. Now, in this era of boredom and stalking, Canada felt even clearer than normal that they all had secrets. Uncomfortable secrets. Blisteringly embarrassing secrets. All the secrets. He had known it before but this new obsession had started to make him even more tuned into it than normal. It felt… weird. (In truth he was really lucky, it was good to have the upper hand in black-mail as a representation who found himself in conflict more than he would have hoped.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was lucky in that sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one thing, he didn’t really have much to hide. And what he did have to hide were other people’s secrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile quirked his lips. It wasn’t only Japan who was withholding information, If fact, just as they all had secrets that were so painfully strung out of view he was more than confident that they were all withholding important information. Even France, who didn’t often have specifics to share with people, seemed suspicious in the sense of knowledge that was needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In short, Canada didn’t really trust the others and they probably didn’t either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and closed his eyes. If he waited a few more hours it would be more likely that England would be awake but at the same time that meant he would get no sleep. He could sit here and pretend to be doing something useful or he could set his alarm for just a little early, go to bed, and wake up ready to tackle his phone-call before he spent another day with his friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was definitely the best course of action, no matter how little he wanted to admit it or how secretly angry it made him that he had to be five entire hours behind the man he needed so desperately to call. Canada did really want to get enough rest in order to have a good day and go to the mall with Cuba as they had planned together but how was he supposed to go to sleep when he had such exciting news on his hands?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if not many other people would consider it exciting, or even evidence at all, he felt as though England would enjoy it. Smiling as if hiding a secret (which, he supposed, was sort of the case) Canada relaxed against the back of his couch. He would set his alarm in a few minutes, and then he would go upstairs and sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cuba had the guest room, which Canada had labeled as the guest room only because it was the largest bedroom in the house behind his own. (He would have let the biggest room be the guest’s but he was usually the only one living in his house, well, besides Kumajiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His pet polar bear was currently at a friend’s house, he had apparently wanted a little vacation of some sorts, so Canada had set up an overnight with one of his work friends; a very nice lady who was regrettably human. (Canada knew he would miss her gravely when she passed away.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the sudden intrusive thought, Matt sat up, shaking his head. It was really never a good idea for any of the representations to think about their human friend’s inevitable demise, that was, if they were unlucky enough to form a bond with someone they would miss so dearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was what he was supposed to be doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not being sad, no, that wasn’t what a job that he needed to accomplish. In fact, he was supposed to be here to help the small band of partial-stalkers in their quest to… well, stalk people. So, in accordance with this, now clearly wasn’t the time to feel sorry for himself, not when worse things had happened in the past, and especially when they were so obviously glaring as a possibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not when those worse things were starting to seem more and more likely to have hurt people he cared about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alfred,” he whispered under his breath, remembering that fateful, half panicked telegram from all those years ago, “please, please for the love of all things maple, keep those eyes a secret,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Violet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stunningly violet.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter Twenty Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N Whoo, spicy there other chapter! Now you have to focus on England again! Sorry not sorry~ ...and now a chapter I actually planned before writing! </p><p>Warnings include a little bit of flirtiness (it’s a FrUK chapter in this fanfic what do you expect) and drinking of whiskey, but not enough to be unsafe. A/N over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Twenty Four</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think you’re right,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were still echoing in England’s mind as he laid on his back in the soft but ever-so-lumpy hotel bed. Canada had called him at eight in the morning, which was surprisingly late for how panicked he seemed to be. (It was more of an excited panic really, but the two weren’t very differentiable over the phone.) Sure, eight in the morning in Britain was three in the morning in Canada, which made Arthur worry that Canada didn’t get any rest, but it was still odd to hear a half asleep, angry, Canadian cursing at him for sleeping too much. (It was especially odd since he had already been awake for a few hours by the time the blond hockey player called him.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all of the initial doubt was washed away as Canada rushed through an explanation of why he was calling.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cuba thinks you’re right Arthur,</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sentence had been completely without context, and had definitely taken the Brit off-guard at first, even after Canada began to explain what he acutely meant. Apparently, Cuba, without knowing that they were discussing an idea related to what he was about to say, had gotten into the topic of magic and brought up potions. At first, England hadn’t gotten what the big deal was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, they already knew there were potions, it wasn’t exactly new information. England’s mother had worked for years documenting transformation spells, though nothing as weakening or partial as the one they were searching for at the moment. She usually liked full-scale transformations, things like turning into animals or plants, disguising oneself as parts of nature for an upper hand in battle. (The only partial change England could think of was an early spell that she had apparently never finished, something to do with bird wings.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Canada had quickly explained, however, that this was important because Cuba had no idea that anyone was interested in anything like this and yet he brought it up. It didn’t matter that he didn’t identify specifics, apparently, it was just important that he generally thought such a process was within-reason. England had almost rolled his eyes at this, of course it was within reason, just as much as any other transformation spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonetheless, it was quite exciting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right then it was far past noon, more than a few hours having passed since their very energetic and sleep-deprived phone call. That call had taken place as he was driving down to the ferry terminal, as he had to get to France within the hour. Many of the European nations were having a meeting, not because their bosses need it or even because they- God forbid- </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see each other but instead because they were (again) working out the aftermath of the Cold War.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a while, years in fact, since that war but things were still quite chaotic. Things were getting better, for the most part, but there were still personal and general things that needed to be worked out. Not everyone was there, mostly because no one really wanted to show up but also because too many nations in the same room at the same time wasn’t really a fantastic idea. So here he was, lying on his back in the bed he had so kindly referred to as a ‘lumpy hotel bed’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t really a lumpy hotel bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was lumpy as all hell (or at least he was going to pretend it was, just to be rude) but it wasn’t a hotel bed. Yes, that’s right, France had decided that a few of the Europeans could stay at his house instead of going directly home, as it was a long drive for many, and others were simply too lazy to get on a plane or even book a hotel room when some they knew was right there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England hadn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>intended</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stay. and he wasn’t exactly sure why he had agreed at all in the first place, but he didn’t really want to attempt to get a hotel now. It wasn’t exactly ‘far after noon’, more of a ‘late middle of the evening’ sort of deal, and he didn’t particularly want to go out into the ocasinaly confusing streets of Paris when it was dark out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spain was also staying over, probably because he wanted to spend time with his friend, but had passed out on a basement couch a few hours earlier, probably from regular old lack of sleep. Prussia had wanted to stay but unfortunately (or fortunately depending on the perspective) had way too much work to do in his home country (which was now Germany instead of his now-slightly-useless name-sake) and could not stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as England stretched his legs, hearing the satisfying ‘pop’ of joints that had been stuck in one place for too long, he couldn’t stop thinking about Canada’s information. In fact, now that France and him were the only ones awake…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour and a few drinks later, England and France were laughing loudly in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Brit was sprawled out sideways across an armchair with his feet kicked up on the side of it while Francis was in an office chair which seemed to be very intent on turning him around and around over and over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you are a very interesting person Angleterre,” France purred, his hiccuping laughter far more accented than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly,” England took another sip of his whiskey, swearing as he spilled a bit of it on his vest due to the almost forty five degree angle he found himself sitting at in the armchair. France covered his mouth to hide a laugh, amused by the green-eyed blond’s predicament.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes at the Frenchman, forceful wiping the drink off of his clothing and deliberately touching the back of the chair. France gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth and exclaiming, “Angleterre!” his eyebrows furrowed, “why would you wipe my precious drink on the chair? I could have drunk that stuff off of you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England nearly choked on the drink that he had just managed to get into his mouth without his hand shaking enough to spill more. Judging by his companion’s confused expression France either didn’t know the sexual implications of what he had just said (which was highly unlikely) or he had gotten better at pretending jokes weren’t jokes. England shook his head, feeling a bit sick about the idea, “Francis, please don’t ever say that again, it makes you sound like a pervert…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France blinked, that looked of confusion clouding his eyes for just a moment longer before it seemed to suddenly hit. The recognition lit up his face before it was immediately brought back down again into a wide-eyed and shocked expression that he had let it slip by him. “I…” he stuttered, “I missed the chance to make a sex joke?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burping and wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve (which was a very un-gentlemanly thing to do but he didn’t care) England shrugged, “It sounded plenty like a sex joke from my perspective…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me Gilbert, I have failed you,” France brought his hands together in a mock prayer, “I will never let the opportunity pass again,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh good lord…” England sighed and turned away from the dramatic reaction, kicking his feet aimlessly, heels tapping against the stitched side of the armchair. He didn’t really want to know why France was apologizing to Prussia because he didn’t take the opportunity to recognize a dirty joke but he had the general gist. Perhaps a bet of some sort?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England shook his head, furrowing his brow and squeezing his eyes shut as all the possibilities of jokes that France’s close friend would enjoy came bombarding his mind. He really didn’t want to think about it but yet here he was, nearly gagging at the idea of a joke centered around a common miss-pronuciation of Germany’s name. Little fruit flies of intrusive thoughts, that’s what these jokes were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like you have thought up a good one,” France smirked, his right hand was absentmindedly swirling his glass around in circles, “may I hear it perhaps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” England blushed, a bombardment of jokes surrounding France hitting him as he tried to deny the existence of such things in his mind, “It’s horrible,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Horrible as in not amusing or gross?” France smiled brightly as if this was a normal conversation for buzzed half-friends to carry, “Because I can definitely deal with gross,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thousand other possibilities entered England’s mind at that statement but he shook his head firmly, “It’s both a terrible joke and disgusting, I’d prefer not to mention anything to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on!” France groaned with a roll of his eyes, “I’m no worse of a person to share lewd jokes with than America!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England bristled, “I don’t share lewd jokes with America!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” France looked genuinely surprised, “You are missing out! He has some absolutely hysterical ones, he could go on for hours about the state of Alabama, I’m telling you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gritting his teeth and feeling an urge to gag, England shook his head, “I bet Alabama feels absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span> about that doesn’t he…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, France shook his head, “Not really,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before England could even mutter a ‘it was sarcasm dumb-ass’ he was suddenly hit with another thought. He knew exactly how to move this conversation away from jokes that made him uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey France,” he started, catching the other blonde’s attention immediately, “I have some interesting news Canada’s really been wanting me to tell you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking, France sat up, “I’m sure it doesn’t have to do with sex jokes, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England cringed at the forwardness, “Well, no, but I’m sure plenty could be created from it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France’s triumphant laugh sounded like a scoff, “Well, in that case, go ahead and tell me! No time like the present to make my allies and enemies alike intensely uncomfortable!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some more than others,” England muttered under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” France teased, “I don’t think I heard you mon amour, can you maybe repeat that~?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you stop calling me ‘love’, dearie, because I am not that,” England sneered, kicking his legs up higher and letting their weight pull him back up to a regular sitting position as he turned to face forward again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is the difference between you calling me ‘dearie’ and all sorts of </span>
  <em>
    <span>English</span>
  </em>
  <span> words and me calling you love in my much better language?” France started to protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England smirked and threw back his head, raising his glass to his lips and downing the remaining bit of his drink in one gulp. When he was done he lowered his gaze and wiped his mouth again, though the smirk stayed present. “The difference is that i’m using mine as an insult and you are being flirtatious and all sorts of unwelcome things,” England smiled broadly as France took a moment to think about this, “so, clearly, using ‘love’ as an insult is a much better choice than meaning it literally~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I could use love as an insult plenty,” France purred, walking his fingers up his own leg, before glancing up at the Brit on the other side of the coffee table, “and you would probably enjoy it…” England bristled, a short ‘well I never!’ being all that had time to slip out before France pressed on, “but, you first, what were you saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing that there was no point in arguing, Arthur sighed, “Canada just wanted to tell you that Cuba thinks the general topic associated with forcing male pregnancy is possible,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France blinked, “Mathew told him about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” England hurriedly assured him, “he just brought up potions and mentioned changing body systems, I’m not sure why they were talking about magic though…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” France mussed, “Prussia once told me that Germany thinks Cuba can teleport, might that be part of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England blinked, “Wha… he… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cuba might be able to teleport,” France shrugged with the same casualness as before, almost as if this was a normal thing to say, “if he can that would explain why they were talking about magic, teleportation counts, correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I suppose,” England stuttered, he hadn’t really thought about Cuba as a viable option for magical powers but now that he was confronted with it the entire idea made sense. It just… he didn’t know. it just kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>suited</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. A short silence wasn’t much, in fact, England didn’t even notice that it was in place until France coughed, breaking his focus on the terrifying yet intriguing image of Cuba teleporting to meetings halfway across the globe instead of using a plane like average people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he started, staring across the coffee table at his still spinning companion, “do you have any-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could even finish the sentence France interrupted, and the fact that he stood up suddenly at the same time made England jump. “Is it still possible?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England had no idea what the stubble-bearded man was thinking about (or planning) so he blinked in suppressed surprise, having recovered only slightly from the jump scare. He crossed his legs and forced a professional shrug (if there was such a thing), “It’s always been a bad idea, I’m not sure why- if he did do this- why Yao would-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But is it possible?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England chewed on the inside of his cheek, “If it was at some point it still should be now, and if you are worried about ingredients there are probably ways around that, like converting it into a spell, though I doubt that that would fully work. It would probably be way more painful and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” France sat back slowly again, “it’s still possible…” even from across the room in his slightly buzzed mindset England could see that the French representation was thinking hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Francis,” he cautioned, “I say it’s dangerous because I mean it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response France waved his hand dismissively as he was clearly still thinking hard (though he caused England to quietly and indignantly curse at him due to the rude nature of the gesture.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, the pause was heavy and riddled with uncertainty. France sat very still, tapping his finger rythmatical on his knee with one hand and stroking the stubble on his chin with the other. In the armchair nearby England nervously bopped his foot, bouncing his calf on his other knee and wondering what the hell France could be thinking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, France spoke again, but it wasn’t exactly the most promising of phrases. “Do you think…” he started, “do you think you could make it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though it was exactly what he was expecting, if England had still had any whiskey left he would have done a spit-take. “I- I, well, that is…” even though it didn’t have anything to do with him in an insulting way he still felt himself blushing, “It’s… it’s, I… huh,” He moistened his lips, trying hard to think of something to say, though eventually all he could come up with was still pitiful. Voice a little small, England stared down at the carpet, eyes half closed, “It’s… it’s dangerous France, and since I’ve never made it I wouldn’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off and looked up, confusion apparent in his now fully open eyes, “W-why me though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why you what?” France asked incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I- ugg,” He sighed, trying to contain his now logical embarrassment, “Why would you ask me to make the potion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France thought about it for a moment before carefully starting, “...mostly because if China has made this before and I asked him he’d probably either cry or beat my ass-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably both,” England interjected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and I feel like Norway would be annoyed by this spell,” France continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably,” England agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>France swallowed, not quite used to being interrupted so much, even when it was only because England was embarrassed and engaged in the conversation, “...and…” he started hesitantly, checking to see if England was about to interrupt. When satisfied with the silence he continued, “and Romania does cards, Moldova’s a child, and apparently if Cuba has magic it only has to do with teleportation and that doesn’t seem useful,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Arthur showed his agreement without words at first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you know who I bet could make it?” France smiled, the expression both mischievous and loving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>England cocked an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frances smirk was clear even from their distance, “you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N So, uh, you may notice that these have been pretty Canada heavy recently, and, *aha ha ha*, that would be because he is pretty important and I *may have* forgotten to mention that.  ~𝓸𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓼~ A/N over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter Twenty Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N AAAA I’m so sorry it was almost late! I was just getting everything perfect, this is a very important chapter after all~ </p><p>Warnings: I get into some very mild and poetically inspired descriptions of miscariage in this chapter. If anyone has problems with these things I warn you to take caution. A/N over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Twenty Five</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ivan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China put his tea down on the table with a soft clink, and when Russia glanced up from his own to check on him and answer with a soft hum, he saw that there was clearly something wrong in his eyes. He was thinking about something, and he was thinking hard, almost as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed after he had gotten the other man’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Да?” Russia responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweet and simple, just a comfortable little way to answer a question that wasn’t really a question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China looked a little worried as he breathed in, carefully phrasing his next few words as if trending on eggshells. Before Russia even had the chance to process the words he felt himself frowning. Why did he seem so worried and so cautious of his words? Weren’t they supposed to get along now? Was he still so untrustworthy that words had to be planned in a conversation between them as friends?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia bit his lip as China spoke, but he was careful not to let his mind drift, these words had to be important if China looked so uncomfortable as he spoke them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much… how much time are you spending with America lately aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia’s eyebrows raised, he had been thinking that this question would be a lot worse, “Why do you want to know? I think it’s a rather healthy amount after such a violent war, if you’re worried about that,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China nodded slowly, as if taking this information and wondering how to turn it into another question. Russia swallowed, whenever Ukraine was trying to politely get information out of him she did the same thing, not that they were able to talk much recently, or even for a while before that. All he hoped was that China wasn’t about to be angry at him or something, or gods forbid, have found out about his stalker-like tendencies. (That would explain why he would ask about America, as America was technically a part of the operation. Still, Russia hoped it was not so.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” China started again, “have you, uhm, been talking to England much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia blinked, trying to remain with his permentanty innocent looking smile despite the deep worry that was now coursing through his bloodstream, “I’ve talked to him for work and things, just as normal, have you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That last bit was a genuine question, he did honestly wonder if they had spoken recently. It was a mostly non-invasive inquiry, with nothing to do with their operation, because he seriously wondered if China had been talking to his old allies much. Until recently Russia had not been, probably because he had been the direct perpetrator of America’s rage, and the one that the remaining ‘allies’ from their Allied Powers group had been fighting so much. Of course, now that he was forced to think about it, China had also not been on the ‘good’ side in that war, as the winners had written them out to be equally as evil as their bosses. This was both unfair and mostly incorrect, so it came as an interesting idea that China and England would talk to each other on peaceful terms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still, it was worrying to think that perhaps England had told him about their investigation. It wasn’t that far out from a sane thought (as Russia congratulated himself for so rarely) and because of this the mere idea was enough to make him angry at the blond already, even though he knew it probably wasn’t the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia was so deep in thought that he almost didn’t catch China’s response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t, no, I was just wondering if you have, since I’ve been seeing you near each other a lot more after meetings aru… the same with you and that American,” He clicked his tongue, looking up at Russia, and for a moment the taller man thought he caught a glimpse of anger in his normally bright golden eyes, now tinted to an orange with what appeared to be red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not the type of red of someone who had been crying, the type in the whites of eyes. No, this was his irises, tinged red with, judging by the rest of his expression, anger. Even though it was only there for a brief moment and when that moment was over (and for the record it passed quite quickly) his eyes went back to being oddly blank. “Why are you talking to them so much aru?” he asked again, voice strangely upbeat, though desperately strangled, “Did you come up with an addition to your peace treaty? Is there trade… or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia cringed, yeah, the brunet was definitely searching for some sort of information, though he sounded regrettably like a jealous girlfriend through the attempt. Ivan wondered if China had meant real trade or what it was often a code for in their world. He blushed, “Нет.” his scarf swished as he interjected with an awkward laugh, “I haven’t been doing anything indecent with either of those westerners, if that is what you are asking,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China seemed to be struggling to keep down a genuine smile, seemingly unable to not find the miss-understanding amusing, “No, nothing like that aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Russia would have wanted a silence as a short rest from the highly stressful conversation (even though it had only been a few sentences so far he could feel the tension between them) he spoke before he could let it happen, “If not that, then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China’s nose twitched in an almost cat-like way as his eyebrows lowered over his golden eyes. He very slowly reached forward and picked his tea cup back off the table, maintaining eye-contact the whole time. “I was wondering if you could tell me that, huh Ivan?” his voice was low as he peered over the cup at the man before him. Russia swallowed. He was definitely on to </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> even if he hadn’t been tipped off by England. (For some reason China’s statement about the non-existent social situations between himself and the Brit seemed as though they were not lies.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean,” Russia tilted his head to the side inquisitively, even if the curiosity was completely faked as his mind raced behind the scenes. If there was one thing he had learned from being part of Mongolia’s territory back all those hundreds of years ago it was that </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to be on China’s bad side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even at the time they had not been enemies, in fact they had worked together to escape Mongolia in that age. But seeing China fight, as in fighting in war and hand to hand combat… it still sent shivers up his spine, be them out of attraction or fear, (Wait, attraction? Did he actually just think that?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately before he could think about it too hard China spoke again. Russia distantly acknowledged that he had set his cup of tea down, but he hadn’t noticed when it had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Russia,” China started, speaking very plainly, his accent pretty much as thin as it got, “I would say I will ask you once but I will ask as many times as I deem necessary, so that would be a lie aru.” His lip twitched with annoyance, “why are you talking to them so much? And,” he added quickly, “by this I mean France as well, and that other one,” he stared off into space for a second or two, trying to remember Canada’s name before remembering and rushing on. “Canada, that’s his name. I want to know why you’re talking to them so much aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia smirked, eyes darkening protectively, “Why are you suddenly so interested?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China scowled, “I’m interested because you never talk to them, it’s not a normal thing for you to do, so I’m worried aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Russia felt annoyance boiling up in his throat, “You’re worried? About </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> exactly, that I have a social life again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of,” China’s fingers were tapping on the table again, quickly, as if he were struggling not to make a rash decision, “If I did not get along with you currently, yes, I would find that quite worrying aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wooph,” Russia blew the air out of his mostly closed mouth, eyes still angry, “harsh, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to be so defensive aru,” China's voice was again light-hearted, though that angry look remained in his eyes, “that isn't the full reason, and before you get mad and attempt to hurt me- which I would not let you do- maybe listen to what I want to say properly,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia felt a pang in his heart, and if he could have become much paler he probably would have. The mention of his apparent want to hurt the brunet was worrying to say the least, was that really what he looked like? He hadn’t meant to seem threatening, not really, he was just trying to play defensive and act in a similar way then China was. It was purely an act of self-defence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evening had been very quiet, and not much conversation had been had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rare bits of conversation had only peppered the silence, but Russia didn’t mind it at the time. Now, with the perspective of everything that was happening and their current situation he wished that they had found something else to talk about. Something that dismissed self-preserving concerns. Something that could build a friendship instead of tear it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia had noticed that recently, instead of searching for information or listening to accidental hints in muscle-memory speech, he had been genuinely enjoying spending time with Yao. When they let each other get along the space between them seemed to shrink, and Russia was happy for that. Unfortunately they rarely listened to each other as actual friends, or even as people who could trust the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throughout their existence they had been allies many times and clashed just as much, maybe more in fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, with their constantly changing alliances and personality quirks, it should have come as no surprise that it was hard for them to truly trust one another. Ivan had always envied his fellow representations, they often seemed more capable of building positive relationships than he was. (But, to be fair to himself, it was important to remember that they were also generally scared of him so it was harder for him to have positive interactions with any.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had really come as a terrible shock that most of the others didn’t like him at all. He knew that maybe he went a bit overboard, snapping Latvia’s neck for example, but from personal experience he knew that most of the others were the same underneath all of their fake emotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No representation was really worthy of being trusted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a life where friendships could be torn down at the literal word of someone else’s boss it was too painful to really try to connect with anyone. When the only positive experience was to forget their tortured lives and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> kill each other, when the only way to forget was through even worse suffering, when all of their choices were regretted in the blink of an eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it was just too hard to give in to the human need for love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, China’s high pitched and yet so-so-so threatening voice popped his thoughts as if they were inside of a balloon, or perhaps a bubble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m asking because I’ve noticed stares and whispers... and when I get stared at it’s rarely for a good reason aru,” his words dripped with fake sweetness, the type that left an icey burn in your throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia attempted to swallow said burn, but it hurt to try, “I’m not trying to hurt you, I don’t have anything to do with that,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah-ha!” China exclaimed triumphantly, eyes brightening in a worryingly familiar way, “You aren’t trying to hurt me with </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-with nothing!” Russia stuttered, blushing despite the seriousness of the situation, “I’m not doing anything that would hurt you, that’s what I mean!” even he felt the unreliability in that statement, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to be angry or really defensive. Maybe Yao was giving off his own anger aura and he felt too intimidated to do so, that was entirely plausible, but something in Russia told him that it was definitely more. It was like he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fight back, because he really didn’t want to hurt the other. As much as he hated to admit it because of how embarrassed it made him, he had been getting very used to talking to Yao as friends, as friends that could have maybe become something… more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt terrible at that thought, knowing that it was going to be a lot harder to come closer to one another if their trust shattered in such a preventable way. He bit his lip, now actively not listening to whatever China was saying. He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to feel even worse than he had already, even before he had somehow been discovered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been having second thoughts about telling Japan for a few weeks, and had been regretting ever letting the asian country mention it to the other’s for even longer. At first, when it had just been him, it had been truly enjoyable, a hunt that he could follow with no regrets because at first he hadn’t cared that much about China. And, more importantly, it had been an outlet for his loneliness after his family left him behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They had the right to leave anyway,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was what his thoughts always told him, and for goddamn once they were probably right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been wrong to start trying to find out about Yao’s past. He knew that now, now that he actually cared about him. Even in their past as, ah, poticaly </span>
  <em>
    <span>closer</span>
  </em>
  <span> nations he hadn’t ever really connected with him as a person. He had been simply a place to run off to and nothing more, a way to escape from his cruel treatment in his childhood, a way to get away from his bosses while still participating in history as a being who could affect it with his actions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the time he had not wondered if China was there for the same reasons or if he felt something more, something worthy of the ‘friendship’ half of a relationship. It just hadn’t mattered at the time. Now, with more knowledge on who he was as a person he didn’t really have to wonder anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China had never been one for conflict… but boy when he had to be part of it he fit the scene </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia supposed it was his age, his years upon years upon years of experience as someone who had to deal with fighting and hatred constantly. At least for humans there was usually some escape from the unforgiving world of politics, but for representations like countries or American states or even Canadian provinces, there was never a way out. Everyone just had to deal with the toxicity of it all twenty four seven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone had built up tolerance to the war, the famine, the death. Ways to block it out from their everyday lives. Some had chosen healthy ways to forget their pain, Hungary, Austria, Finland and Sweden, as examples in a sea of others like them, had turned to love and friendship in times of pain. People like Japan or Liechtenstein had their families to go back to, even if the first of the two had half-destroyed it. Micronations like Sealand or Wy, who struggled to find their place in a hatefuly forgetful world, had people just like themselves to lean on when all seemed lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But some people hadn’t been able to find safe outlets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was how Lativia found himself drinking beer and straight alcohol to forget his torture of a life that really wasn’t worth living. How Germany found himself bottling up his emotions and using the rage to yell even louder at his soldiers. How America found himself running away from his fears on a treadmill until he couldn’t stand, or how England turned to black magic to prove that he was better than everyone else. Even Russia’s problem with stalking and hurting people for his own amusement could be explained as a terrible coping mechanism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China, on the other hand, was a mystery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia knew he would have loved to turn to family or friends but at this point he didn’t really have that many that he could trust. In the past he had probably had many experiences with bad coping mechanisms, but Russia didn’t know any specifics. Still, he somehow managed to keep himself composed and (though not very calm) at least politely secretive most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia supposed that was why he had been so drawn to a basic slip up in that meeting those few months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Russia started to tune in again, it was immediately clear that China was waiting for him to say something, though what specifically he hadn’t caught onto due to his wondering. He bit his lip, looking down at the table (he was suddenly unable to meet the other’s gaze, what was this, regular emotions? When had he started displaying those?) and felt himself blushing, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice nearly too soft to hear, “w-what did you ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China glowered at him, eyes displaying a red-ish tint again, “I just wanted to know if you know anything about why I feel like I’m being watched aru,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia normally wouldn’t have given in, not even to someone he cared about. Even if one of his sisters had asked a similar question in a similar situation he probably would not have told anything, but the anger in Yao’s eyes was too great, he clearly already knew something, so why couldn’t Russia just give up if he would be found out anyway? He squeezed his hands on his knees and took in a very deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the choice he was about to make. Leaning his head down to his chest, he exhaled the breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hide in his scarf without even noticing that the habit had resurfaced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he said quietly. But even though it was barely audible he felt as though he had screamed a secret of his own at the top of his lungs in the middle of a world meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China’s eye twitched and he muttered something like a curse in his native language before standing up. Now that his suspicions had been confirmed his eyes were blank again, and his expression equally unreadable. Still, Russia could tell that he was very angry, and definitely thinking about something important because he turned his back and took a few steps away from the Russian before speaking again, as if trying to hide any signs of what he was imaging from prying eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind aru,” he sighed shakily, “what exactly do you have to do with that creeping feeling of being-” here, his voice turned to a murmur, as if trying to hide itself as well, “...</span>
  <em>
    <span>stalked</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia swallowed and ruffled his hair worriedly, lips trembling as he opened his mouth to speak. So it was then, only a few months after England had become involved in his and Japan’s meetings, only two months after the rest had followed, Russia gave in and told China what had been going on. He hadn’t even been confronted once before about it, so it was more than a little bit sad that he broke so quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole while as he gave up small details about the group he had accidentally put together China paced back and forth on the other side of the table and Russia sank further and further into his chair. When Russia mentioned how France got involved due to the carelessness of meeting in such a public place China growled, literally growled, as if he were some sort of predatory animal. Russia could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fury seeping out of him, and he sank even deeper into his scarf with every word he uttered, with every little bit of anger that China admitted. He felt awful, he felt regretful, he felt disgusting, and (most extremely) he felt like a terrible person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never felt like a terrible person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, not until now, not until he had a reason to believe that what he was doing was wrong, that what he was doing wasn’t some sort of game or cruel joke. Seriously, if he had done this same thing with literally anyone else in the world he probably wouldn’t have felt so terrible because he hadn’t just become closer to a person he had known for millennia, because he wouldn’t have been in real danger because of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his voice finally died in his throat, having said everything that he had, the only sound was the soft tapping of China’s heel as his knee bounced up and down. Funny, Russia hadn’t even noticed that he had sat down again. He felt… a little faint, and definitely like he wasn’t welcome. Still, Russia wasn’t able to meet his eyes and still stared down blankly at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, after what felt like </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> of waiting, China spoke again and Russia looked up, catching a glimpse of the other’s eyes before dropping his gaze again. “Ivan… wasn’t that just fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>brilliant</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was low, dangerously low, and so so icey. Still, Russia was sure that the continued use of his human name was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good sign. That combined with the absence of his regular vocal tic and the fact that the phrase was dripping with furious sarcasm made his heart drop about two feet in his chest. There seemed to be a lump forming in his throat, but he knew swallowing would do no good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, Russia got to his feet and stiffened his arms at his sides (though his hands stayed in weak fists) he then rocked onto his front foot, unable to meet the asian’s eyes and opened his mouth to apologize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” his voice was even weaker and much more strangled than before, “I’ll go, I’m just hurting you,” his voice was a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first few steps to the door were slow, but as he felt China’s eyes on the back of his neck they sped up. He had to get out, had to find somewhere there was alcohol, he couldn’t just stay here. In the back of his mind the sudden and unpleasant question of what this would mean in that actual world of politics surfaced but he pushed it down. He couldn’t let this deter him in his everyday life, he shouldn't have even cared in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked to the entryway he felt as though he was still being watched and his ears flushed at the idea, how could he let himself be figured out? His feet quickend. How could he even start such a thing in the first place? He stumbled while picking up his coat. How could he let himself hurt someone he now cared about? His hand tightened on the door handle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he faultured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know if he was allowed to say anything now, but he lowered his gaze and turned around, tilting his head in the least awkward bow he could manage. “Прощай,” his voice shook and died in his throat. It took a second or two to revive it, “я буду скучать по тебе подсолнух...” he finished, turning around again, his scarf swishing at his ankles. Even if the phrase was inappropriately placed he didn’t care because he figured that he wouldn’t have another chance to say it anytime soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately after Russia left the house, China got up and walked to the window, his steps stumbling and uncertain. Nearly falling against the window, he watched Russia shuffle down the driveway. He was moving slowly, painfully slowly. Watching the tall nation leave, China felt an overwhelming sense of dread, he couldn’t just let him go, not like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But suddenly, cruelly, he was somewhere else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere a long time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere too long ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was blood, so much blood. Or were those tears? It was always hard to tell, and even harder now that they were mixing on fingers. Well, even as one he felt as though it was all over him, his eyes, his clothes, the floor… God, it was </span>
  </em>
  <span>everywhere</span>
  <em>
    <span>, he just couldn’t seem to get out of it. Maybe he was crying, maybe he was screaming, or maybe it was utter silence.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s hard to tell those sorts of things when the world is spinning, especially if you are alone to experience it. So unforgivably alone in a world that could never know. A world that </span>
  </em>
  <span>would</span>
  <em>
    <span> never know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sobs racked his body but no sound seemed to be coming out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was this panic? Or was it fear?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was this what it felt like to be drowning or to be buried alive? Well, no, not quite. This was worse because he </span>
  </em>
  <span>could</span>
  <em>
    <span> breath, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>could</span>
  <em>
    <span> get oxygen, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>could</span>
  <em>
    <span> get free, but his lungs just weren’t moving. (Or were they moving too quickly?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had been murdered though different forms of asphyxiation enough times to know that he had to keep calm unless he wanted to die of it, even if he doubted it was really as extreme as his racing thoughts made it seem. He was painiced, in agony (in physical ways as well as mental), and most importantly incredibly… helpless. He wasn’t supposed to be helpless, that was what weaker nations were for, what non-empires were for, what younger groups did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Helplessness was unforgivable, and yet so impossibly hard to stop.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Just calm down,’ he tried to tell himself, but the message didn’t quite reach its destination, a letter long forgotten. A book burned and lost to the world. That was what this was, just something lost that couldn’t be found. Sobs that shook bodies couldn’t be heard unless the voice joined in, tears that stung old cuts couldn’t be seen unless it was exposed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had to hide, but there was nowhere to run to, he was already alone. So much more alone than he had been before.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This shame would never be known.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was no going back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No one could ever know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>China blinked, shaking himself out of the memory and realizing dizzily that his hands were clutching the windowsill so hard that his knuckles were turning white. His head was spinning and it was suddenly hard to breath, oh so hard to breath. He had to get out of there, had to do something, but who could he talk to? Who but himself did he have?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, it hit (unpleasantly at first, though it gradually became a bitter sweet). If Russia was here and he had already been wondering why he had been acting strange at that meeting there was clearly no better option. He hadn’t told anyone about this since the Han dynasty, so it was terrifying to mention anything about it, especially to someone who clearly wasn’t trustworthy. But if he wasn’t trustworthy and, though he had no idea how far their little ‘group’ was into digging up his past because Russia himself had apparently not met with any of them in quite some time, there was no point in hiding it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had nuclear weapons now and, on a more personal level, guns if he felt as though the absence of a specific representation would be necessary for his survival. He didn’t want anyone to find out still, he never wanted anyone to know, but bottling up something for so long sometimes makes one make rash decisions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And plus, he needed someone to talk to, even if the only person around was someone who had just betrayed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, there was no way that he was letting Russia leave now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nervously, he peered out the window to see that Russia was now almost at the street. “Shit!” he cursed under his breath, slipping away from the window and dashing around the corner to the door. He threw on a coat (but it may have been inside out) and managed to slip one shoe on, opening the door with his hand while hopping forward and attempting to put the other on. The movements were weaving into each other as he rushed outside, too hurried to bother to shut the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“嘿!” China’s voice traveled fluently through the crisp air, but he sounded rather out of breath, “向日葵!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia froze in place. He knew that word, even if it was really the only word of China’s language that he could say that about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, he knew its counterparts in most languages. Things like ‘girasol’, ‘Sonnenblume’, ‘ひまわり’, ‘tournesol’ and ‘sunflower’. It was just too important of a word to disregard, so he had learned many of the names it went by (mostly because any sighting of the plant was good and he didn’t want to miss a chance to glimpse one).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China rushed over to him, his coat slipping off one shoulder with the quick movement that he didn’t bother to fix. Russia stared at him, transfixed, but then realized what he was doing and turned away again, muttering frantic apologies under his breath and pulling the hood of his coat over his head. He could tell China had stopped behind him because the sound of his shoes against the pavement had slowed and then stopped. His shadow moved closer, provided by the light coming from the windows, and Russia’s apologies became more rushed, his shoulders raising to hide his face further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China, however, didn’t seem to care that the Russian felt awkward or regretful as he instead reached out and grabbed his arm, forcefully spinning him around so that they were facing each other once more. At first, Russia felt like he was about to get slapped or kicked until he saw China’s expression. It wasn’t quite a positive one, not really. Instead, there was a certain level of determination in his eyes and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. He had something more to say, though Russia hoped it wasn’t going to be part of a rant because he already felt awful (even if he definitely deserved more than getting ranted at).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come,” the Chinese nation’s voice was clipped as he turned on his heel, hair swishing over his shoulder as he yanked Ivan along behind him. Russia stumbled, weakly trying to resist capture, but China was relentless. Soon, Ivan found himself back inside the sudden gush of warm air brought redness to his cheeks that hid among his already present blush. But it was mostly from worry and not embarrassment, though there was definitely a bit of nervousness as well. He didn’t exactly feel welcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought they were going to stand in the entryway until he realized that Yao was just taking off his shoes (one handed, since his other was still wrapped almost painfully around Russia’s wrist) he was always careful to abide by that sort of custom. Then, since the kitchen was right near the door, he thought that he was going to go sit down there instead, but no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon he found himself being dragged into the living room, though China hadn’t turned around to look at him the entire time. He swallowed, unable to tell if that was a good or bad sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he found himself being shoved down onto the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared up in surprise, too shocked to fight back or try to stand again. China had let go of his arm and was now standing above him, the formerly defiant expression on his face now grim. He took a few steps back, and Russia looked on curiously, though he turned his head slightly and hunched his shoulders over, too worried if he was welcome or not to abide by the laws of polite conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, China didn’t seem to care about them at the moment either, because he did not sit down. (Russia vaguely recognized that they were almost at a more equal height than when they were both standing. If he wasn’t so worried he would have smiled but it was immediately buried by more worrisome thoughts.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one thing, why did China bring him back inside if they were just going to get caught up in an angry staring match with each other? For another, if China was going to speak why hadn’t he already? Stealing a glance upward, Russia was partially sure he caught the reason why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China’s eyes were far away, and filled with an emotion Russia couldn’t quite place a finger on. (But in that case why did it seem so familiar?) He seemed to be making a choice between speaking or letting Russia suffer in silence, and because the latter was already quite painful, Russia coughed softly in an attempt to grab the other’s attention. It worked, and China’s eyes focused on his face, tearing themselves away from whatever world they had been staring off into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, and Russia was immediately reminded of himself earlier that night when he had given up the secret of the group and it’s participants' common interest. Was he also about to let go of a secret? If so, Russia felt a sharp stab of worry in his chest, he wanted to tell China to stop, to not tell him because he wasn’t trustworthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, as usual, because of both his curiosity and situational introvertedness he couldn’t bring himself to speak up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to know why I’m so annoyed that you would be looking into my past aru?” his voice was much clearer than Russia had expected, as if he was determined to stay serious and above the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a movement so small it was nearly undetectable, Russia nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was that action which opened whatever mental barrier had been keeping back China’s emotions. Suddenly, Russia could sense a thousand different words for ‘sad’ a thousand different thoughts of ‘I’m pathetic’ a thousand different ways to say ‘why me?’. But, without a care about how this sudden bombardment of mental states could affect his companion, China started talking, telling a story that started even before Russia had been born.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, there had been a war. In any other situation Russia would have considered this to be the most important aspect of such a story but China brushed past it, almost as if it did not matter. There had been whispered words, both threats and fears, but none of them were shocking enough to be mentioned. There had been deaths and injuries, but none of them had been central enough to bring into direct light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, all except one injury and half a death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In China’s wording, which seemed to be slipping in and out of English as the story progressed, it was more of the death of a possibility than a physical loss of life. But, apparently, that hurt a lot more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia could feel himself actively feeling sicker and sicker, as if experiencing what he could have felt if he had been a witness, though apparently no one knew. No one except one old woman who died a few years later, bringing the dirty, awful secret with her. Truly, it was more of a mix of secrets, secrets that Russia could somehow see himself in despite having no memory of any such event. Perhaps it was just so well retold, even if as it went it became more nonsensical and more focused on emotions rather than memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia wondered if China realized that his wording was confusing or if he simply had no other way to put it, if he himself didn’t quite understand what had happened or even why it happened. The Russian didn’t blame him for not delving too much deeper. Truthfully, the way it was told sort of caught onto his emotions. The cryptic way sentences were started and others were finished in their place. The overarching feeling of doubt that sat over the words. Even the way that parts of it were definitely not in a language (or a dialect of a language) that Russia understood, as China seemed to sink too far into memory to hear what he was saying every now and again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mystery aspect of such a sad event.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tragedy of a possibility lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those sorts of things were so much more heartbreaking than a video or photo could ever capture. A failed creation of life, an injury that ripped any chance at success away. The end of something that hadn’t even started. Truly, only poetic phrases for the event seemed to be fitting, as nothing else could really capture the heartbreak right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he talked, China paced back and forth across the room, fidgeting with his clothes or hair occasionally, sometimes talking so quickly that his accent blended words together to the point of being incomprehensible. His eyes were wide open but still didn’t appear to be focused on anything. Honestly, seeing how he reacted to the memory was a hundred times more terrifying than the story itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It got to the point where Russia felt the urge to stand up and stop him, just stop him from speaking, stop the ever present fidgeting movement, and make it so he was calm. But he didn’t know how to go about such a thing, let alone possess the courage to do it. He knew that he had to do something, but what exactly was not clear. He just needed a way to provide comfort, but how could he do that when China was so clearly off in the past and no longer consciously aware of exactly where he was?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vent seemed to go on forever, mostly because Russia’s urge to stand up and either slap him and start crying or hug him and start crying increased significantly the longer China spoke. When it was over there was an empty silence so full of emotions that Russia couldn’t even tell which were his, which were China’s, and which were fabricated out of lost memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only noise was China’s heavy breathing as he collapsed onto the couch next to Russia, though this time his eyes were the ones that refused to meet his companion’s. Russia could tell that he was having second thoughts about telling about his past but he could also sense a certain sense of pride, a certain relief. A weight that had been ever so slightly lifted off his shoulders, though it still stayed in place for everyone else but the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a long time for Russia to get his voice back in a clear enough way to speak regular words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yao…. Yao why didn’t you-” Ivan’s words cut themselves off as his voice choked with too many emotions. When it came back it was much weaker, but despite this he turned to his side and reached forward, grabbing the other’s arms, “why didn’t you tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sad laugh escaped the Chinese man as he stared up into the white-haired Russian’s eyes, “you know perfectly well why I did not aru…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” even Ivan didn’t understand why he was so choked up, perhaps it was because of his broken ties with his sisters? Or maybe something else, but in that case, what? Yet his mouth finished his sentence before he could finish thinking, or even finish drafting the words in his head, “but we’ve known each other for so long, physically </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> have you never mentioned it?” he wanted to add ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t you trust me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ but he knew that the older man couldn’t trust him. He had just told him about how he had already broken his trust so recently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yao shook his head sadly, “I…” he was desperately grasping at words, but nothing he could say seemed good enough, despite the fact that he knew exactly how he had never even accidentally hinted it, “I’m sorry aru.” he paused, his slightly open mouth falling shut into a final, official looking frown, “I’m sorry. Is that good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth was that he was almost constantly thinking about what he could and couldn’t say in the back of his mind, filtering out things that would have been suspicious. It was purley paranoia (and the fear of being blamed) but if this year proved anything it was that even a minor slip up could lead to utter chaos. He had made it a couple thousand years, and that probably should have been enough but it just </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he still didn’t feel safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ivan’s breath came shakily, “A-ah, я, uh, I…” his shoulders were raising and falling in a very exaggerated way as he struggled to think of something to say. But nothing came as the emotion forced everything of meaning out of his head. The grip of his gloved hands on China’s wrist loosened and one traveled up to rest on the other’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yao nodded softly, sniffing and raising a hand to wipe away a stray tear (the first of it’s kind really, he hadn’t started crying during his vent) from his eye, jostling Russia’s arm off his shoulder. “Did you want an apology? For not telling you?” His voice was weak, uncertain, and Russia felt a pang in his chest, agonizingly strong as if something had stabbed him through his slowly cracking heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia’s words sounded strangled as Yao pulled away and stood, his back now turned. “No!” he exclaimed, voice cracking when China looked back at him, back to his disturbingly fury filled glare from earlier in their conversation, “No, ah, I…” even though China’s back was now turned, arms wrapped softly around his abdomen, Russia struggled to find comforting words. He had never been one for social interaction or friendship or love. But he and China had known each other for hundreds, if not a couple thousand, of years. He couldn’t just do nothing, not when he had just been trusted with a secret as insanely fucked up as the secret he had just been given. Still, he knew that if there was anyone who could help him now it was the one who had started the mess they had both been dragged into; this whole stalking situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yao, I… I didn’t… I didn’t know,” Russia’s voice was weak as he half-stumbled forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t supposed to feel regret like this! Wasn’t supposed to care about China, especially not since this was supposed to have been for his own sake, for entertainment of all things!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yao… Yao I’m so sorry,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China glanced back at him, gaze hard and full of pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia realized he sounded weak, frail, and pathetic… but it didn’t matter. If he was supposed to be a good friend, even in a friendship that started from a never ending urge to spread secrets and claw his way to the top. He couldn’t just stand there and do </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> when China had just told him about such a terrible and secret thing from the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It surely hadn’t been shared out of trust, no, it had been the opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet here he was, not yet kicked out and not yet ready to leave. He couldn’t just say nothing, couldn’t just act as though this wasn’t a big thing to be trusted with. (Or rather left with the information of, the way China had told him had seemed like more of a way to get a weight off of his shoulders and not a secret that he even trusted to be kept. It was the harshest type of retaliation, the type that also served as some sort of white flag.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia stood from the couch and lunged forward. It was a completely autopilot action, so he shocked even himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were two couches in this room, both rather small but at least large enough to fit three people. They faced each other, perfect for holding conversations with too many people to sit in chairs in the dining room. This setup also made it possible to not fall onto the floor when your partial friend unexpectedly knocks you over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They landed sideways on the couch, still in a general sitting position but on their sides. Russia hit his shin on a table leg and nearly crushed China at first, but immediately rolled off and began apologizing, though his arms did not leave from their tightly wrapped position around Yao’s middle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China stared at him, looking both worried and tentatively amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia kept apologizing, but his face became more and more buried in China’s hair with each sentence and his arms got tighter and tighter around his waist. The surprising thing was that China didn’t protest, and instead turned his head so that his face was buried in Russia’s scarf. Eventually Russia’s words died, but their hug didn’t stop. Instead of letting each other go, giving into such pride that would deny them the much needed affection, the two nations held each other in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China’s voice was a little hard to understand when he spoke again, and Russia could tell that he had finally started to give into him emotions, since his voice was even more muffled than it would have been if it was only obscured by a scarf. “So… I take it you won’t tell anyone aru?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia supposed that the hug was an obvious enough clue that he felt real regret for his actions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia’s voice was also muffled when he answered the question, and his accent much thicker due to the emotions that were finally taking over his mind, “Never,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it wasn’t a lie,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>China’s head moved backwards and tilted upwards in an attempt to stare into Ivan’s yes. Russia also moved back, looking down at the other nation. The silence that held them was comfortable, but felt so lonely. Then, they both seemed to have the same thought. It was a fairytale-like thought, a wish that probably wouldn’t come true. But despite that, neither seemed to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stretching upwards and placing a hand on Russia’s cheek, China placed a short kiss on the other’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe all wasn’t lost.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N. *stretches* mAN that was a LONG chapter! I wrote this one kinda backwards in order to capture the same general mood as the rest of the chapter because it was so long and so easy to get out of hand. So basically I wrote the last could hundred words last last, but the part before that (around 500 words? idk) was actually written first. And after that the start (for the first about 2500 to nearly 3000 words) was written next. And then the middle section was worked on when I felt like it.</p><p>It was a pretty tough chapter but with that technique I was able to work out what I wanted to do pretty reasonably. :)</p><p>Also, surprisingly enough this was actually written in less than one week, I used the first week as a break for inspiration grabbing and homework doing. Tschüss! A/N over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter Twenty Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N TWO chapters with the bois in a ROW?!?!?!? Unheard of!! (I realized that China and Russia haven’t been in this much recently xp, but sorry there's not much I can do about it except wait until I’m out of the chapters I had already planned.</p><p>Okay okay, serious time now. I do have some leginement warnings for this chapter, as a few chapters from now we are going to have our first (dreaded, from my perspective) smut chapter. I will not be writing it on Wattpad or Fanfiction.net, as the rules on these places are a little… confusing. </p><p>However, I will be writing it on Ao3, the version of which I will link in the comments/the story body depending on the site. This will be reiterated in the chapter where this will take place. It is a very very very important chapter from an emotional stand-point for the characters but it isn’t that important plotwise, still I will summarize.</p><p>Warning for this chapter specifically: Flirty crap and a miniscule amount of past trauma references but, like, that’s gonna happen in basically any chapter with China ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵉʷ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵒⁿ...</p><p>I’m really sorry this is late but I had to help take care of my grandma over holiday break and didn’t get much time to write as a result. (Not to sound like an excuse, but because I feel bad and also I think it’s important to mention.) </p><p>Finally, this chapter is where the ‘omegaverse’ logic sets in for the first time. It does that occasionally, to move the plot along, but I generally like to keep self-preservation and general logic at a least number two priority. This is going to be a slightly shorter chapter, so in those regards sorry if this doesn’t make too much sense, carry on! A/N over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Twenty Six</b>
</p><p>
  <span>They broke apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia felt his face reddening, had that actually just happened? He felt as though he shouldn’t have participated in their kiss, even if Yao had been the one to initiate it. It just felt like something he shouldn’t have done, especially after hearing what had happened in his poor friend’s past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Friend?’ What the hell type of wording was that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he didn’t know what word he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> use at this point, but it surely wasn’t just ‘friend’. Not after the oddly action-packed last thirty minutes, not after the out of character urge to let the kiss be more, not after such a terrible awareness of the past had been bestowed upon him. Honestly it was just the wrong word to use no matter what context he put it in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Attempting to steal a glance without getting caught, Russia immediately made eye contact with the other and his face subsequently felt even hotter. China smiled lopsidedly, and for a moment Russia wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss him again or burst into tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way he was sure that he wouldn’t blame him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white haired Russian leaned forward but, to the pleasant shock he felt at himself, it wasn’t in a menacing way like how he normally moved. Instead it was a soft, kinder gesture. He pressed his forehead against the asian man’s forehead and closed his eyes, he didn’t have any better way to communicate. He couldn’t use words, because he knew that he struggled with making such statements hold real meaning. Other than that, however, there weren’t really any queues pointing him in the right conversational direction. It just felt right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently China felt the same about the gesture, because Russia heard a soft hum and it sounded almost... happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Happy wasn’t a word that would jump to his mind while describing China, at least not recently. Not when all these new developments in the knowledge they had about his life kept cropping up, not when England’s fucked up theory had been proved oh-so-depressingly-right. In this way it was a real, solid relief to see joy on the brunet’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Ivan somehow felt like it was a cruelly misplaced source of joy. A misguided emotion that should have, under no circumstances, found its way to lose sight of the light of day. Though it may have been true that Ivan didn’t understand what so many of the others found fighting about him but getting closer to China had made it a bit more clear what he had to do to appear less threatening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice to be around someone who didn’t immediately run away, even if China was one of the people that the decision would have been the most clever for. Sure, Russia sometimes threatened England or France or Germany but those were just petty words, he didn’t actually care about them as people. Yes, he would step on them to claw his way to the top but they were in less danger than people that he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew things about</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was exactly this knowledge that had led him to a friendship he didn’t know he wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the same curiosity that would probably lead to China’s eventual downfall, especially judging by the truth that England and the others had already managed to gather. It was scary, knowing that in the end he would either have to call off the operation and threaten death to anyone who spoke word of it again or give in and tell his new found friend that they had to tell the others exactly what happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making things even worse was the fact that the decision was really only the last option since he barely met with the others anymore and had no control over them. Sure he could probably beg Japan to help him keep China out of danger, but it would probably end up being a waste of time in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had chosen his cards at the beginning of this little game and he would have to deal with the consequences with the same vigor and passion when the time came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How fool-hearted had he been?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily enough, he didn’t have to force himself to think about it for much longer. China made a soft noise, almost like a bird chirping, and wrapped his arms around Russia’s shoulders. It was an awkward hug due to their off-balance placement on the couch but it was still a very appropriate action to quell the inner torments which were bombarding Ivan’s insides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, it was a ten out of ten hug for both parties. While Russia had been forcing out intrusive thoughts about the necessary steps to take once the jig was up China had been trying to force out equally bone chilling self blame. It wasn’t as intense as it had been when they had started their conversation, but even as he laid on his back in the comfort of the arms of someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>understood, </span>
  </em>
  <span>there was still a boiling sensation of hatred in the back of his throat. It oddly wasn’t hatred for Russia, even though it really should have been due to his confession.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t know the extent of the social damage which would come as a consequence, but even with that lack of preparation China felt his odds were better with both of them there. Such a comforting feeling, to tell a secret that has threatened to escape you for the last three thousand years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rather comforting thing, though equally terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He probably could have made it a bit further without being found out, maybe a couple hundred years or so, but the phases of depression had been getting stronger and stronger the last few times they came. It was odd, the placement of these areas of emotional weakness. There wasn’t exactly a way to calculate when they would come, and there wasn’t really a way to calculate when they would end, but every few decades there would be a time of intense self hatred over something that China really had no say in.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘It is natural.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ some people would say, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>to feel at fault here,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a fair assessment, since the hormones sent to the brain after a miscarage were rather cruelly focused on self hatred even if there were no reason why it would be deserved. So this sort of response was scary, knowing that he was unable to overpower such a biology driven thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was the other sort of response that was worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>For shame,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ they would say, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>how could you let this happen? You are a waste of a mother,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yao tightened his arms around Russia’s back, gritting his teeth and pressing his forehead into the other’s scarfed neck. These intrusive thoughts were solidly the worst thing that his brain conjured up. Not only because he didn’t exactly have a way to push them down other than bottling up his already faint emotions but that he had to continue on to childlike fantasies that had been repeated so many times they had become a bit of a bore.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But what if it is your fault?</span>
  </em>
  <span> His brain would say, to which he would respond with a straight up ‘no, shut up’ before forcing the overused memory of finding Japan back into his head. Really, he had worked that memory so hard that it seemed to ooze emotions reminiscent of what he was trying not to think about. He had related such memories too frequently to the pain he tried to push away, and as such it got harder and harder to forget how awful he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated that he had done this to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The miscarge hadn’t been his fault- obviously- but his brain still thought up ways to make it his fault. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh, but you could have avoided going into that battle!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> it said, knowing full well that to avoid such a call to duty meant getting on his bosses’ bad side. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well in that case you should have just told them and then you wouldn’t have to go into battle!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> but this too could be disproved as a theory in an almost sickening simple way. He would have probably been killed for going against nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only argument that his logic and intrusive thoughts agreed on was that if he hadn’t made the potion in the first place he wouldn’t have been able to lose a pregnancy, It was gross, to have to agree with such hateful ideas, but even this wasn’t fully compatible with his logic. Of course it was true in theory, but how much would the future have been different had he not made such a miserable decision? How many quick questions had he answered out of stress at the fault of this horrible trauma? How would the butterfly effect have changed his personality and ability to make decisions around people? How many wars could he have stopped just by hypothetically trusting people more?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was around this point that his logic always kicked in and reminded him that this was a ridiculous thing to be thinking about. Generally he hated contemplating different possibilities for the future- it just felt gross and was even worse when it was at the expense of his own suffering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For sure, if the intrusive thoughts were a person he definitely would have cut them out of his life by now. Unfortunately it’s often a lot harder to get your thoughts out of your head than a person out of your sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Responding relatively late to China’s tighter hug, Russia turned them so that his knees were against the couch cushions. He tentatively put a little bit more of his weight down, just so much that it became a little bit difficult for China to fully expand his chest while breathing and not so much that it became painful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To China, the extra weight was comforting, sort of made it feel like he wasn’t alone, like he didn’t have to suffer through this secret by himself any longer. Which, he supposed, was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true that he didn’t have to live through this alone anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true that he didn’t have to suffer entirely in silence any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, he wasn’t going to go around and tell people or go out of his way to confirm the others suspicions. Instead he would just not mention it, but in a different way than he had been for the last few thousand years. He had outlived anyone who had previously been aware of his dirty secret, and now that time had passed it was time that he at least stopped stressing about the prospect of being found out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And no, he wasn’t going to stop worrying, that was impossible. Instead he would just try his best to remember that if they hated him for it they were in the wrong and their opinion on the subject didn’t matter. So now that the others were on the track of cracking the code of what had happened to him all those years ago he couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t try to stop it without making their suspicions worse either, so he just let it happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It might not have been the most climactic moment in his life, but it hopefully wasn’t something that would come back to haunt him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia hesitantly shifted his body upward so that his chin was against China’s forehead. He placed a gentle kiss on the other’s head, to which China didn’t quite have the energy to laugh at, though he smiled tiredly and pulled Russia back down so that he could rest his nose in the crook between Ivan’s neck and shoulder again. Sure, he hadn’t exactly expected</span>
  <em>
    <span> anger</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but such an accepting mood towards affection hadn’t been exactly what he had seen in his predictions either, and Russia was thankful that China hadn’t begun to cry again. (Not because it was shameful but rather that he didn’t know how to properly handle it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair laid in silence for a comforting amount of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia rubbed the other personifications back and ran a hand through his hair, pressing his face harder into the other’s shoulder. He was glad that China hadn’t immediately kicked him out, or, he was glad that he hadn’t stayed kicked out. He was glad that China didn’t have to suffer through this alone even if that had technically been what he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russia hadn’t expected anything like this secret to come up in his research and now that it was the answer he wished he hadn’t started the operation, but he couldn’t change that now. All they could do now was live with the fact and make the most of their situation, and if that meant pushing out intrusive thoughts while snuggling on the couch then goddammit he would do it. He couldn’t stop what he had started but they could savor the time when only they knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, as if the world would end the next day and they were the only friends left, Russia felt tears starting to trickle down his face. He wasn’t sure why he was crying but for some reason he felt like he was forgetting something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What had it been that Alfred had said to him? Something… about his eyes? But what exactly?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t remember…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Violet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what about violet?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N. The way I phrased that first author's note was really serious huh. ^.^’ Well, nonetheless, I minorly liked this chapter, I hope you did too!</p><p>I had some crap start in real life so updates are probably gonna get even more sparse I’m sorry. T^T</p><p>Basically I wrote this all in one night after stalling for a few weeks and forcing myself to stay up on a school night. (I was already going to stay up since I didn’t save an Ao3 doc on the family computer before it shut me off because ~time limit~ and I had to make sure the computer didn’t shut down so I could save my work.</p><p>I wrote this on my school chromebook because if I’m already forcing myself to stay up for the nine hours until the computer unlocks so I can save my writing I am legally required to write a chapter of the fanfic I’ve been ignoring. Them’s the rules man.</p><p>Don’t worry I had the Heathers and HTTYD soundtracks to distract me from my slow spiraling of pain into sleep deprivation and venting. A/N over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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